Knife's Edge
by mml94
Summary: Sequel to Spider's Web. Two brothers. Two stories. Two paths. There's a thin line between good and evil. A knife's edge dividing the two. And when you cross an invisible line with dire consequences, can things ever return to the way they were?
1. Butterfly Kisses and Houses of Cards

**_Okay, I'm going to warn you now that this chapter is the mushiest chappie I've ever written and my first attempt at a romance chapter. Please don't laugh. This chapter was going to be longer but it didn't really make sense._**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series or any characters in the series. I do own Noelle and Zane.**

* * *

"What do you mean your girl might not like you?" Wolf asked, pounding the control pad furiously until his tiny avatar finally buried a round of bullets in Alex's character.

"I don't know. I'm not big. I haven't filled out yet. I'm lanky" Alex said miserably. He jerked the control pad and his avatar rolled forward, punching Wolf's in the face. Wolf grunted loudly.

"Stop beating up on yourself. You're fine. At the risk of sounding way cheesier than I would normally allow, if she can't tell how great you are, she doesn't deserve you" Wolf said, nudging his younger companion in a vain effort to distract him from the game.

"But I think I love her Wolf" Alex said, blushing fiercely.

"Then why the hell do you look so sad? You love the daughter of a multi-billionaire and she hasn't kneed you where it hurts. That's something to celebrate about" Wolf offered, grinning as he delivered another round of bullets to Alex's character.

"I've known her since forever Wolf. She's seen me running around the garden naked, trying to find my paddling pool" Alex said, wincing as the controller vibrated in his palms.

"That's a long time" Wolf admitted.

"But it's only now that I think she's started to be pretty. I-I like to look at her face. That's all I know. But she's still sulking with me about her birthday and I don't even know why. What can you get her that she doesn't already have?" Alex mused aloud, unloading his thoughts as Wolf inflicted a five hit combo, draining his character of half it's life points.

"What did you give her anyway?" Wolf asked, doing a small, celebratory jig.

"A model aeroplane" Alex answered shortly.

Silence ruled the room, the only noise disrupting it a clanking of pots and pans from the kitchen where Jack was making dinner. Wolf suddenly broke the quiet with a loud, roaring guffaw.

"Bloody hell mate! You bonehead! What the hell made you think she wanted a model aeroplane for her birthday? I mean, her father has four full size, private jumbo jets" Wolf said, his laughter ringing throughout the room.

"I don't know. But I fluffed up my one chance!" Alex said quietly, tone choked with emotions.

Wolf sighed, rolling his eyes with a slight smile on his face. Alex immersed himself in the game and won back a few points.

"Look arsehole, that's good news! She wanted something special from you, that's good" Wolf counselled.

"What? You're being about as clear as a puddle of mud" Alex complained.

"It's good because it means she wanted something special. A token. I gave her a very boring book comparing the trajectory's of the weapons modern day soldiers use. She was thrilled" Wolf explained slowly.

"Pitchers, flasks, buckets of mud" Alex said, using a sweeping roundhouse combo to half Wolf's avatar's life points.

"My god, how dense can one person be? She wanted something, a token of affection from _you_ because she has affection for _you_" Wolf said, gently knuckling the younger man on the head.

Alex grinned in realisation.

"Really?" he asked, eyes of the television.

Wolf jumped to his feet to strike the killing blow that would bring him his very first victory over Alex. Jack crossed the room in two strides and yanked the plug from the socket. The television dimmed and switched off immediately.

"Jack!" Wolf snapped loudly, voice full of loss. She silenced the dark haired man with a quick kiss.

"Dinner's ready" she said, straightening up. Alex suddenly leaped to his feet and took off, the door closing loudly behind him.

"Alex? Alex!? Jamie, where's he gone?" Jack asked, panicking.

Wolf tidied away the controllers and pivoted to face his girlfriend. He kissed Jack's cheek and grinned.

"He's gone to take his first few steps in love" Wolf replied, making his way slowly out to the kitchen. He flopped down at the table. Jack rolled her eyes and turned, following Wolf out.

"To get the crap kicked out of him by love fo the first time more like" Jack said, smiling and shaking her head slightly.

* * *

Noelle Richards switched off the tv with a small snort of disgust. Nobody broad-casted anything good these days! She heard the front door of the penthouse apartment she shared with her father open and she sighed. It wasn't Zane anyway. He was always half an hour late to try and avoid Declan Richards, who happened to harbour a dislike towards his daughter's cheeky, loud mouthed boyfriend who seemed to take a childish glee from verbally sparring her father.

A fifteen year old girl living in a huge, penthouse apartment that must have cost millions with no one from the rest of the building to bother her for three entire floors and she couldn't think of anything to do but wait for her aforementioned loud mouthed boyfriend. Nothing. Nadda. Zilp. Zitch.

The room she sat in was tastefully decorated with casual expense and she hated it. The walls were painted the most beautiful cream with dark rose on one wall. She had a queen size bed, cable television, a walk in wardrobe and a fully functioning entertainment system. Everything a girl could want? Whatever.

She couldn't stand the stifling wealth that surrounded her constantly. Noelle wasn't exactly tall for her age but she had ash blond hair cut to her shoulders and dark eyes. She was tanned year round thanks to her father's impromptu business trips abroad at weekends. Noelle was used to entertaining herself. After all, if she didn't, no one else would.

Noelle felt her thoughts wander back to Alex. They did that a lot these days. A model aeroplane? What was he thinking? She'd been dating Zane the three weeks since her birthday as a kind of comforter. Zane was amazingly good looking, funny and did the wildest, most romantic things. He could make her smile and laugh. That mattered to her. She could even feel herself liking him more and more each day. Maybe she'd love him. But even thinking about Alex made her stomach flip like a pancake. He'd always been good looking but the past few months, he'd become more than just her mate. At least, she'd thought so. And then he went and gave her a model aeroplane? It didn't make sense. Maybe it was a boy thing.

Her father appeared in the doorway holding a chunk of mail and smiled tiredly at his daughter.

"I have it on good authority that a certain teenager is on his way up here" he said.

He smiled to himself as his daughter's eyes lit up and she beamed at him. Alex Rider could make his girl laugh. He could make her happy. And as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered.

Noelle knew her father meant Alex. She just knew. All thoughts of Zane were banished immediately. She totally forgot him, one hundred percent. Alex was the boy on her mind.

"What? Alex is coming? How do you know?" Noelle asked her father, jumping up from her bed.

"Happened to pass said teenager on the stairs. Said hello. He was busy sweating profusely and mumbling to himself. Something about a birthday present. Had a lovestruck, gombeen head on him and all. I'm guessing a declaration of undying love is on the way so I'm going to make myself scarce. Microwavable fish fingers for tea. They're in the freezer" he said, kissing his daughter's forehead with a wink and a mischievous smile.

A romantic at heart, Declan Richards smiled to himself. He'd heard the tears the night of her birthday. He'd seen her calmly build the model aeroplane and then lob it out the window. He'd stood by and watched, ready to step in, but praying he wouldn't have to. He figured if it was meant to be, it would happen.

After a quick salute, Declan exited the room, chuckling to himself. He left the door open upon his exit and nodded politely to Alex Rider as he charged up the stairs, not even noticing Declan. Declan chuckled again. The Rider boy had pluck, he'd give him that. But, Declan considered to himself, he was definitely a cut above all of the others Noelle had brought home.

The boys she usually went out with for a week or two? Declan didn't want them for his daughter. Boys like Zane Matthews who seemed to have trouble written all over them. Zane irritated Declan in a way no child ever had before. He was horribly possessive of Noelle too. Behind that childish glint in his eye there was something sinister. Something slightly psychotic that made Declan worry for his daughter's safety. Like a grenade, waiting to explode. Noelle would be a career woman, he'd known it since her birth. A career woman, just like her mother. Declan smiled sadly at the thought.

He summoned the elevator and grinned again to himself, unable to hold back the peals of laughter that sprang from his mouth. He regretted that his daughter was so bored and restless with her life. The boys she went out with were proof. Zane being the most startling piece of evidence Declan had seen so far. She was trying to rebel. To incur her father's wrath. To make him finally begin a huge argument and ground her for weeks. The punishment would at least give her something to do. Spend weeks slamming around the penthouse, breaking glasses and giving Declan the silent treatment. He shivered at the thought.

But the part that he found so irresistebly funny, so wickedly amusing, so devilishly ridiculous was the fact that the one boy she really fancied was the one Declan had been rooting for the whole time.

* * *

Alex knocked on the open door timidly. '_Idiot_' his thoughts mocked him, '_the door's already open_'

"Come on in Al, I'm in the kitchen! You like fish fingers?" called Noelle.

Alex smiled to himself and then scowled. He was totally sweat soaked and his hair was even messier than usual. Of all the days to take the stairs.

He did what Noelle suggested and made his way through to the kitchen. She looked over at him and smiled, pushing her hair back from her eyes.

"Excuse the mess. What's up?" she asked, smiling charmingly at him. Alex swore he felt his heart actually flutter.

"Noelle, I came to say that I-I- em- things are changing now and, er, we're changing and, er, it's not a go- I mean, er, it's natural and, em, it's-uh- only normal. But I, uh, I think I owe you an apology" Alex said as quickly as possible, stammering despite himself.

Noelle grinned mischievously to herself.

"For what Al?" shee asked softly, hardly daring to hope what might come out of his mouth.

"It's, um, about the model aeroplane" Alex began, taking a deep breath.

"You don't want it back, do you? Because I built it and the eh, window was open and-" Noelle began, eyes wide with panic. He wanted the stupid plane back!? Hardly a declaration of undying love.

"What? No, of course not. I-I just think that now, things are clearer than your birthday. I-I think we're both older now, more mature. You're a young lady an, em, I'm a young man. And a model aeroplane wasn't the, er, kind of gift you give to a young lady. In fact, it was a stupid, stupid gift. The worst present I've ever given you. Including the stink bug when we were eight" Alex said, finally calming down towards the end of his little speech.

Noelle smiled at him and moved subtly closer.

"And I-I know we can't do stuff like we used to. We're both too old for playing Pirate Hostage or assaulting your father. But maybe we can do new things together. Things that people our age do? And nothing involving models of any sort" Alex finished up, grinning. He already felt lighter.

Then the moment came. The perfect moment. Everything was just right. The sun was setting outside, the sky a blotchy orange. A lazy wind blew in the window, ruffling Noelle's hair.

Alex leaned in, his eyes on those perfectly sculpted, tantalizingly enchanting, luscious red lips. Noelle closed her eyes and just as their faces were less than an inch apart, the microwave pinged loudly.

Both hesitated slightly. Alex blushed and pulled back, his head ducked in embarrassment.

"I-I uh, em, er, mesit sofa" he said, jumbling his words hopelessly. Before he could even wait to hear Noelle's reply he practically sprinted to the living room to regroup his thoughts. _Mesit sofa!?_ he berated himself mentally.

Noelle felt like screaming and tearing her hair out. That close. So close she could feel his breath on her face. And she'd quite liked that sensation. Stupid fish fingers. She wasn't even that hungry. Suddenly, she had an uncontrollable urge to burst out laughing. Mesit sofa? Alex was even more nervous than she was. Maybe she should try to loosen him up a bit?

She tipped the fishfingers on a plate and pratically skipped into the living room. She put the plate down on the small table and grinned at Alex.

"Mesit sofa too" she said teasingly, her heart pounding. Would he take it the wrong way?

Alex grinned and blushed, looking exceptionally cute.

"Mock me if you must. But I thought it was the very epitome of cool" Alex said, laughing.

Noelle giggled with him.

"Anyone who describes anything they do as 'the epitome of cool' is in no way cool" Noelle said, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders.

"Really? And you're so cool? I happen to remember a certain five year old who used to like eating kitty litter. 'Member you said you liked the aftertaste?" Alex teased, grinning at his friend.

Noelle said down beside Alex and smiled at him.

"I still do" Noelle confessed, blushing slightly.

"That's disgusting! To think I nearly kissed you!" Alex blurted out. As soon as he'd said the words, he flushed a furious crimson.

"What, so if I asked you to kiss me you'd say no?" Noelle asked, her heart pounding in her ears. _Please say say no, please say no_ Noelle silently begged.

"Of course not. In fact, I'd probably do this..." Alex said, leaning forward painfully slowly.

Noelle's heart pounded so loudly she was sure Alex could hear it. She closed her eyes and finally felt his lips connect with hers. They were soft and warm and just right. She felt herself smile. She opened their mouths and felt Alex's breath tickling her tongue. And then, deliciously, Alex's tongue slowly moved into her mouth, almost as though it too was embarrassed.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, a fragile thing. Like a butterfly. Such a contrast compared to Zane's dark, brooding, powerful kisses that made her moan aloud.

_SHIT!! Zane!_

Noelle pulled back instantly and ignored Alex's worried, hurt expression. Zane. Her boyfriend. And loathing as she was to admit it, the boy who she found herself daydreaming about in school.

But she'd Alex for months. Then Zane swanned in. He was so exciting and restless. He was romantic one minute, reckless the next. He was never delicate or particularly sensitive. He made her laugh so hard she nearly peed.

Alex made her smile.

Zane made her beam.

Alex was the kind of boy who could be her soul mate.

Zane was captivating and a breath of fresh air to be around.

Alex was classically good looking.

Zane was movie star handsome.

She really had to stop comparing them.

She adored Alex. She wanted him for the rest of her life. But Zane was so dangerous. He could pluck at her heartstrings and tease out a melody. And if she left him for Alex, Zane would be furious. He was the jealous type and had a slightly disturbing fondness for beating seven shades out of anyone who even looked at Noelle the wrong way. At first, she'd thought it was cute. But now she knew just how dangerous it was.

Alex was more than a match for Zane. But he wasn't. Noelle knew it. Zane would spend weeks watching Alex and then come at him armed and dangerous. For Alex's sake, she had to stop that from happening. If Zane ever caught wind of Alex, he'd kill him. The thought that Zane would kill for her startled her. But it was true. Zane was madly in love with her. They both knew it.

She had to get out of her relationship but in a way that left Alex totally blame free. Maybe she'd be able to convince her dad to 'forbid' her from dating Zane. Breaking up with her slightly psychotic boyfriend could come later. She'd make protecting Alex priority number one.

"Al, you know Zane Matthews?" she said quietly, getting to her feet.

Alex watched her, confusion and pain written all over his face.

"Yeah, that nutter in the form below us. The one who has that classroom assistant following him all the time? The kid who kicked in the Principal's door?" Alex replied.

Noelle felt the tiniest of smiles twist her mouth. When you put it like that, it was easy to choose who was the safer option. But she always had liked danger...

"Yeah. Him. Look, Al, I-I've been going out with him. And you know what he's like. If I break up with him and go out with you, he'll find a way to get at you. And if he hurt you because of me, I'd never forgive myself. So, I think we're gonna have to be mates for now Alex. Just until this whole card tower relationship falls down" Noelle said sadly.

Alex frowned at her.

"But I thought-" he began.

"Hey, Noelle, where the hell are you? I think I'm lost in your hall!" called a familiar voice.

Alex's face contorted in pain. He got to his feet and bolted from the living room, nearly running into the tow headed teenager who appeared in the doorway.

He watched Alex's back race from the apartment and sneered.

"What was that tosser doing here?" he asked, stepping into the room.

"Baby, he's my mate. Get used to him. He's a great guy" Noelle said, stepping into Zane's arms, which seconds later entwined around her waist.

Zane kissed her forcefully and then, just when she felt she was going to run out of air, he pulled back. He smiled that charming smile of his and flopped into a lie down position on the sofa, pulling Noelle on top of him.

"Anyway, what's got his knickers in such a twist?" Zane asked, kissing Noelle's neck.

"Hm? Tired of waiting for the card tower to fall" Noelle answered dreamily.

Zane snickered.

"Not making any sense again" he chimed in.

"What? Oh, he doesn't like the smell of fish fingers, that's all" Noelle replied.

Zane reached over, plucked a fish finger from the plate and tore it in half. He fed one half to Noelle and gobbled the other half himself, blowing on his fingers.

"Whatever. Is it just me, or does your couch smell like kitty litter?" Zane asked, wrapping both his arms back around Noelle.

"Just you baby" Noelle replied, smiling secretly.

Zane wasn't the kind of guy who you told that you liked the taste of kitty litter. Even Alex's tolerance had barely stretched to that one.

Later on, when she lay on the sofa with Zane holding her tightly, even in his sleep she realised she could still taste Alex on her lips. And truth be told, he tasted nice.

* * *

**_1- Do you like Noelle?_**

**_2- Are you looking forward to reading about Jamie next?_**

**_3- Do you think I should put up pictures in my profile of the closest person the characters look like? Some people are doing it and I'd be fine with it if I could find some good photo websites._**

**_4- Will be reading this story or do you think it's just boring?_**

**_5- (Last question) Do you want a Yassen romance? If so, do you think it should be a non-conventional romance?_**

**_Okay, you must have some opinion on this chapter. I'd really love to hear it. And if you can think of a better summary, I'm all ears. So, until next chapter, BYE!!_**


	2. Every Glance Is Killing Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series. I own Jamie and Daniil and Ella and Morgan though. I figure that's not bad for a fourteen yeaar old.**

**I hope you like this chapter because it was cobbled together from three alternative chapters. I took the best bits and tried to weave them together. I hope it worked.**

**The song title comes from 'Stop and Stare' by OneRepublic.**

_"They sent you? A boy? Look at you! Go back to school kiddo!" he mocked. Jamie ignored the man and focused on his fingers. Any minute now his grip would give and he was going to plummet to a remarkably undignified end._

_He felt Morgan's spiked boot begin to put pressure on his fingers and he frowned. He would not give that imbecile the satisfaction of a cry of pain. He concentrated hard. His leg was definitely snapped in at least three places and he was using only one leg to brace himself on the side of the building. He was sweating heavily._

_Then, just as Morgan lifted his boot to stamp down, Jamie pulled himself up, kicking simulataneously. His forehead collided with Morgan's stomach and the man fell back with a loud grunt._

_Jamie snapped out his arm, the heel of his palm colliding with Morgan's face, a sickening crunch ringing in his ears. _

_"That, kiddo, hurt! And now, I'm going to make you hurt. Very badly!" Morgan said, pulling out a flick-knife._

_Jamie frowned. The three steps toward safe knife to hand combat._

_1- Wait a minute before, whilst carefully avoiding the knife, engaging your attacker in combat._

_2- Play to your strengths and wait for your first hit. It'll be worth the next ten._

_3- Disarm your attacker no matter how you have to do it. All is fair in love and war. Knife combat was a bit of both. A war of two in which your opponent would love to stab you._

_Jamie obeyed the three steps to a t and ducked an angry lunge from Morgan. He was getting sloppy. Good._

_"You know Morgan", Jamie ducked another wild slash, "I think", Jamie rolled backwards and onto his feet as Morgan kicked angrily at him, "You need a smidgen of counselling"._

_Morgan let out a guttural roar and threw the knife at Jamie. Jamie felt a smirk on his face and a second later felt large thump that rattled his skull. He blinked rapidly and moved back from Morgan's flailing reach._

_The idiot had hit him in the face with the handle of his knife._

_Jamie reached for the knife instinctively and then exhaled sharply as he realised his mistake. Morgan leered and gave a happy snort as he stamped down on Jamies hand, those spiked boots once again coming into play. Jamie heard the crunch and fell onto his back, reeling from the agony. He looked down at his hand and nearly vomited there and then. The spikes, four of them, were embedded in his hand._

_Morgan's eyes twinkled and he grinned wildly._

_"Say your prayers kiddo!" he crooned._

_Jamie blinked disbelievingly. He couldn't make himself believe that this was it. Death at the hands of an under brained meat bag with spiky shoes._

_Suddenly, Morgan flew forward, eyes wide, mouth still leering. He stilled and then finaly toppled forward, flopping to the floor beside Jamie. Jamie looked up and saw the familiar goofy smile and almond shaped, piercing blue eyes._

_Daniil offered a hand to the teen and hauled him to his feet. He frowned at the messy pulp that was Jamie's hand and gave him a look that clearly said 'Okay Jamie, we're going to a hospital to get those spikes removed and then we're not going to mention the wound to Yassen. Alrighty?'_

_Jamie scowled darkly and ignored Daniil, storming over to the fire escape and thumping down the stairs. Daniil stared after him with a bewildered look before following with an expresion of complete 'Was it something I said?' written on his face._

"You okay? You look kind of...disturbed" Ella said gently, running a hand through his hair.

Jamie grumbled loudly and let out a sigh. He loved when she twirled his hair like that between her fingers. It felt so soft and gentle and calming. Not that he'd ever let her know that.

"Poor baby! How long did Doctor Rhodes say until the cast can come off?" Ella asked, playing with his hair. She kissed Jamie's cheek lightly and inhaled. He smelt so good. He smelt warm and clean with a faint hint of cinnamon.

Jamie mumbled incoherently and buried his head in the pillow.

"We should get married", Ella said gently, "Kids, dog, nice sub-urban house. I can drive an SUV and you can be a banker. Maybe buy a holiday home on the Isle of Wight".

Jamie's eyes opened and he sat bolt upright, staring at Ella.

"Oh. I thought you were asleep" she said quietly, staring defiantly back.

Jamie frowned.

"Married? Us? We'd devour each other after the first week. Kids? You'd have to stop drinking. We're not a couple Ella" Jamie reminded her, his tone flat.

Ella folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

"What are we then? You under-brained meat bag" she said angrily.

Jamie felt a smile twist at his lips. If only Ella knew how she made him feel. She twisted his heart around her pinky finger, every cold word biting into him. He was infatuated, though he tried disgustingly hard not to show it. He hated her because he depended on her for comfort. And he loved her because of it. Dysfunctinal, yes.

He felt like putting his fist through a wall. She knew they'd never marry. Regardless of whatever they had. Stiletto would never allow it. Matthew would shoot him dead if he knew exactly what was going on. He thought they were just friends. Jamie ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm himself. It didn't work.

"We are nothing. You don't love me, you love that I somehow find time to amuse you in the middle of life or death situations. You love how all you have to do is click your fingers and I come running. God only knows why. You love seeing me try endlessly to please you. You love making me grovel. You love tearing up every single human thought I have and tormenting me about everything" Jamie snapped. He took a deep breath and waited for the slap that would surely sting against his cheek. Nothing.

Ella ran a finger along his cheek and he inadvertently shivered.

"_Really_? Well then, I guess I'm wasting my time waiting for you to ask me to the ball, amn't I?" she said, a teasing lilt to her voice.

She ran her finger across his lips lightly and then pulled it away, her lips meeting where her finger had been a minute before.

"The ball?" Jamie asked, forehead furrowed.

Ella grinned and gently rapped on his head.

"Yes. Rothman is throwing that ball, remember? A month from now? I was hoping you'd escort me. But, if you don't want to-"

"Depends. I might. If Yassen hasn't murdered me by then" Jamie said quietly. Ella chuckled softly.

_The loud clap. A small hole in his forehead. Dark red blood trickling down his face, staining his eyelashes._

Jamie frowned. He refused to let that memory swallow him again.

"Oh yeah. Weren't you supposed to be calling him or something?" Ella said gently.

_The loud clap. A small hole in his forehead. Dark red blood trickling down his face, staining his eyelashes. He slumped to the floor, his chair toppling with a crash. He was limp, like a marionette with the strings cut. He stared up with huge green eyes._

"I am. Which brings me to my next point. I have to go" Jamie replied.

Ella's face lost her mocking grin, replaced by an angry pout.

"Am I going to see you again? Or are you just going to waltz back in here two months from now, looking for a quick lay to comfort you after a job? That's what it's like with you. Wham, bam and forget to say 'Thank you ma'm'" she complained angrily.

Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose.

_The loud clap. A small hole in his forehead. Dark red blood trickling down his face, staining his eyelashes. He slumped to the floor, his chair toppling with a crash. He was limp, like a marionette with the strings cut. He stared up with huge green eyes. His eyes, accusing orbs that glared lifelessly at Jamie. The rain kept hammering against the window. Jamie felt the blood drip from his hands to the floor. Two lives he'd taken. Two types of blood on his hands._

He pulled himself up out of bed and slipped on his t-shirt. He found his jeans and ignored Ella's disapproving glare as he stepped into them. He was wearing socks already and he slipped into his trainers before turning to Ella.

She bounded across the bedroom floor and jumped on him, clinging to him with her arms and legs wrapped around his back. She buried her head deep in his neck and kissed him once.

"If you don't come back, you better pray you have a good excuse. Like you died" she said bossily.

Jamie smiled to himself and then set her down on her feet before jogging out of the hotel room. His hand was still in the cast, his bones splintered badly. He wasn't looking forward to explaining that to Yassen. He hurried down the stairs and across the lobby of the hotel, nodding politely to the receptionist.

As soon as he got out onto the street, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and rang Yassen.

Turning left, Jamie passed a large bookshop and stopped to fix appearance in the reflection of the window. His hair was gradually darkening from blond to black. His hair was currently, after a night in bed, rather messy. The mixture of blond and black was annoying him greatly. It made passport photos hell. So did his eyes. His eyes disturbed him sometimes. They were grey. But he'd never known grey had so many various shades. Ella had once said his eyes were the first thing that had grabbed her attention about him.

He wore a light blue polo t-shirt, jeans and lacoste trainers. He supposed he blended in well with the crowd in those clothes. He looked just like a thousand other boys in London.

Yassen finally answered the phone with a frantic shushing noise.

"What? Where are you?" Jamie asked quietly, confused.

"I'm busy. I told you to call me yesterday. Why didn't you?" Yassen asked, disgruntled.

Jamie bit back a sigh. He supposed that was as close as he was going to get to 'Hi, Jamie, how are you?'

"I was busy. Where are you?" Jamie asked.

"Flying over London. I just had a run in with a very charming Alex" Yassen said, voice flat.

"Alex? Alex-as-in-Alex-who-is-related-to-me-Alex?" Jamie asked, biting his bottom lip. He knew the answer before Yassen even replied.

"Yes. He said he was going to kill me" Yassen said, his voice taking on an amused tone.

"What? Why? Where were you talking to him?" Jamie asked quickly. He ran a hand through his hair and continued walking.

"Promised me he'd kill me. Haven't the foggiest. I gave him a little...lift" Yassen said. Jamie could practically hear him smiling. So, whatever had happened with Alex he found hilarious.

"What do you mean lift? I thought you were taking the chopper...You took him somewhere in the chopper!? Do you not remember the last time you were in a chopper with Alex!?" Jamie snapped, drawing curious glances from an old woman who happened to be passing.

"What's this I hear? I'm not the one who threatened him with death last time. I was in the harness. He was going to die. I just gave him a lift and saved his life. Nothing too big. You know, I think you still want to be there for him. You still want to look after him" Yassen said quietly.

"What? No. I don't care about him. You're the one who keeps tabs on him. Maybe someday I might make contact with him. But until then I will continue to nurse a thirst for revenge. It's only natural" Jamie replied in a clipped tone.

He could practically sense Yassen's amusement. Christ, why did that man have to be so reserved!? It wasn't that he didn't laugh or smile. He just, well, he just rarely did. Jamie used to get headaches from talking to Yassen. All the verbal, subtle sparring, the unspoken amusement; he used to find talking to Yassen difficult. That was when he was younger, maybe nine years old. But he supposed he had no reason to criticize. He was quite frequently exactly the same.

Another reason why he liked Ella. Her reactions were so unstudied. She didn't think before she spoke and she made him want to laugh and smile.

"I'm sure. Daniil has been avoiding me. Any idea why?" Yassen asked, his tone serious again.

Jamie swallowed. He knew it was to do with his hand. Usually Daniil pestered Yassen all day long about everything. So Daniil hadn't told Yassen yet.

"No. Not a clue. What was Alex doing in a life threatening situation?" Jamie asked, hoping that he'd changed the subject.

Yassen sighed into the phone.

"Jamie, it's a Rider curse. Trouble seems to just follow your whole family" Yassen said.

"I wouldn't say it follows me. It's more like it runs ahead and waits for me to catch up" Jamie replied.

"Be that as it may, little Alex has gotten himself into a precarious position. I'll tell you more about it when I see you. I want to know why you weren't sleeping at your hotel room last night" Yassen said quietly.

Jamie bit back the swear word that nearly slipped out.

"What were you keeping tabs on _me _for!?" he snapped.

"What, did you think I'd actually leave you alone in London to your own devices with no adult supervision? You were with the Port girl, weren't you?" Yassen said calmly, waiting for his answer.

Jamie ignored the question/accusation and crossed the busy street he found himself on. He'd never liked London much. He could never find his way around the bloody thing. It was like the city just decided to toy with him, making him get lost. He could never find the building he wanted when he wanted it. And, to top it all off, the constant noise and crowds just irritated him.

"You were. Don't trouble yourself to deny it. We can discuss that matter later. Whilst you were with her, I got a call from her father. Scorpia are mobilising something big. They have his entire family under watch with Recon units snooping around. If Scorpia try anything with Matthew, all hell is going to break loose and you will be caught in the middle of it through association with his daughter" Yassen said very quietly.

"What? Why would Scorpia act now?" Jamie asked, confused.

"Jamie, change is coming. The wind is about to change directions. Matthew Port had extremely good luck when he started Stiletto. Now his fortunes are about to change. Scorpia, for the last few months, has been in turmoil. Unrest has broken out. They're falling further behind Stiletto and they're getting desperate to solve their problems" Yassen replied.

Jamie looked around him, noticing for the first time that he was alone. He'd wandered into a smaller, quieter street that looked, for the most part, run down. He considered what Yassen had said and then looked back over his shoulder.

"Jamie, I want you to get out of England as soon as you can. Get a flight, take a ship, go across the channel to Paris if you have to. Just get out of England altogether. You don't realise it now, but you're caught in the middle of a war between Scorpia, Stiletto and MI6" Yassen said.

Jamie took a deep breath. He knew Yassen probably wouldn't appreciate him being so emotional in the middle of a volatile situation but he felt that sometimes, certain things had to be said.

"I missed you while you were in Cornwall" he said, gritting his teeth. He waited for the yell about wearing his heart on his sleeve. But honestly, he didn't care.

"Really?" Yassen said, a lighter note to his voice.

"Yeah. When we get back to your land can we just do something normal? Together?" Jamie asked. He felt like punching himself. He knew how stupid he sounded. But he hadn't talked to Yassen in three months. He really did miss the Russian.

"Alright. It's a deal. As soon as you get back we'll go do something normal. BASE jumping okay with you?" Yassen asked amiably.

"Yeah, of course. Look, I better go now. I have a thing or two to sort out before I leave" Jamie said.

"Alright then"

"Okay"

"..."

Jamie pressed the hang up button and ended the silence, replacing it with the dialling tone.

He looked around him for the first time, desperate now to find his bearings. He caught sight of an alley leading back out to one of the main streets and turned onto it, deciding that he actually preferred crowds to being alone on deserted, derelict streets.

He was halfway down the alley when he heard the rustle. It was only the faintest of noises, but his ears picked up on it anyway. He was about to turn when he felt himself buckle underneath the weight of something pressing down on him from above.

He hit the ground hard and rolled to his feet in one fluid movement, thankful he'd recently mastered the technique. It was then that he realised that it wasn't a something that had fallen on him. It was a someone.

It was a man, that much was clear. He was wearing a beanie but blond hairs poked out under it. He leaped through the air and rammed in Jamie, knocking him up against the side of the alley.

Jamie retaliated with a punch to the man's face and two kicks to the abdomen. Whoever the man was, his tolerance to pain was incredible. He simply kept Jamie pressed against the wall, eyes roaming his face as though they were searching for something. The man's eyes were a shockingly intense blue. Watchful. And filled with something an attacker's eyes shouldn't have been filled with. No hate or anger. Just something else that Jamie couldn't quite find a word for.

Jamie ducked quickly and swept a kick, taking the man's legs out from under him. He fell to the ground but rolled back to his feet fluidly. He smiled at Jamie. Jamie's blood turned cold. The same maneuver he'd used to get back on his feet. This man was stronger than him and knew at least one technique Jamie did. The odds seemed to say that he probably knew more than just the one.

The man ducked under a series of fist attacks from Jamie but before the teenager could kick him he had grabbed Jamie around the waist and once again slammed him up against the wall, this time face first.

Jamie felt blood trickling from his lips and turned his head sideways to breath. He bit back a gasp from the pain. The man had dug a knee into the small of his back and was holding both his arms in a vice like grip behind his back.

The man flung Jamie around and, after a brief struggle for power, manage to slam him onto the floor. The man sat on Jamie's back and gave a quiet chuckle. His voice was deep, a rich baritone, and he made no move to get back on his feet.

Both fighters were breathing normally despite the exertion of the fight. Jamie lashed out angrily with his foot but the man avoided it.

"I'm going to let you back on your feet now. You can do what you want. You won't be able to follow me. "I am going where you cannot follow me now, though you will follow me later on."" The man said. Jamie vaguely recognized the quote from the bible and frowned.

Then, as quickly as the ambush had taken place, the weight was gone from his back and the man was nowhere to be seen. The only thing Jamie had as confirmation that the fight had really happened was the fact that his lip was gushing.

He rolled back to his feet and groaned. The side of his face hurt and the man had caused the pain in his hand to flare up. He supposed the man mustn't have noticed it in the dark of the alley.

Using the wall to support himself he made his way back out to the mainstreet. At first, he was set on calling Yassen. But then, he realised the Russian would make him fly with him in the helicopter. And Jamie had just one thing he wanted to do before he left England...

* * *

He'd barely changed since the last time Jamie had seen him. Of course, he was taller. And his hair had grown. Funny how it was getting lighter while Jamie's got darker.

He was athletic looking. In good shape from the looks of it. And he was happy. That was something.

_Happy? You don't want him to be happy. He hurt you. He killed Isabella._

Jamie pushed aside the anger that flared up in his stomach and just watched his younger brother. He was with that red haired woman. Jamie had done a little digging into his brother's life and had found out quite a bit about him.

He was living with an SAS soldier who went by the name of Wolf and Wolf's fiancé Jack, an American student. Alex seemed happy enough living there. Ian had disappeared somewhere and for once it had nothing to do with MI6. At least, as far as Jamie knew.

He'd been keeping an eye on Alex since his thirteenth birthday. For some reason, he had never told Yassen. He had a feeling the Russian knew anyway. If he did, he'd never mentioned it.

Alex said something that made Jack laugh heartily and she wrapped her arm around his shoulder in a quick hug. Alex grinned but his eyes stayed serious. Jamie ignored the searing pain in his chest. His brother was in danger, he knew that at least.

Then, Alex stilled and turned. Jamie felt his brother's eyes catch on his face and he suddenly felt the pain again. Alex's eyes held no look of recognition in them, just a mild curiosity about why a stranger appeared to be watching.

Jamie pulled his phone from his pocket and pretended to send a text. Alex's gaze left his face and Jamie felt a catchin his throat. Alex didn't even recognize him. Jamie took another look at his brother.

Yes, he definitely looked happy. By now the searing pain had settled into a throb in his chest. Maybe he was coming down with something. He didn't miss Alex anyway. That couldn't be the problem.

_Miss him? You hate him. You promised you'd kill him. Are you going to?_

Jamie frowned to himself. Why did it hurt to see Alex? Why did he have to look at him if it hurt so much?

_You don't have to look at him. You choose to._

Jamie took one last long look at Alex, absorbing every detail. The wooden necklace he wore. The bangs that hung over his forehead. The subdued smile on his face. It hurt like hell, worse than a burn or a broken bone.

To know that Alex was so close but so far. If they ever met face to face, Jamie really wasn't sure if he could fulfill the promise he'd made. He felt like he was at war with himself. Good and bad colliding inside his veins. And he knew that soon, whether he chose it or not, one of them would finally pull him closer than the other.

Jamie turned his back on Alex and Jack. The pain grew stronger and he winced quietly. His brother was safe for now at least.

But how long Alex's safety would last in the middle of a war of smoke and mirrors, Jamie had no idea.

Jamie jammed his hands in his pockets and frowned when he felt something inside the left one. He gripped whatever it was and pulled it out. A plain white envelope, sealed with no stamp was in his hand. Jamie's blood chilled and he looked around nervously.

The outside of the envelope read '_To my son, Jamie_'.

* * *

**I was going to wait and post this chapter a week from now just to give me time to sleep on it but I'm going to Donegal so no internet for two weeks. I think this way is better.**

**Please review because I failed my English Exam. I was supposed to write an essay with the title 'Missing' and my English teacher gave me a big fat F and three weeks detention. Personally, I think he just doesn't like me. I mean, the essay wasn't that bad. After the whole, "Maedhbh your essay was very bad" chat I was kind of depressed so I ended up starting this chapter from scratch and building it up as best I could. I hope you will read it and please review because I desperately need...**

**...FEEDBACK!!**

**So, without further ado, I give you...QUESTIONS!!**

**1) Would you like it if I posted a new story with scenes from between the two stories? I feel I've skipped a huge chunk of both the boy's lifes.**

**2) Have I ruined Yassen?**

**3) Who's excited about the letter? (I AM!!)**

**4) Does anyone want to beta for me? **

**5) Should Yassen tell Jamie that Alex is working with MI6?**


	3. Confusion Never Stops

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series.**

_So, I've managed to squeeze out another chapter. A triptych really. I know it's very short at only two thousand or so words but I like it. It fits nicely enough and it was a nice, easy way to continue the story. They're be more of a main chapter next and it will be longer. Okay? So, without further ado, here is the next chapter._

_The name for this chapter came from the song 'Clocks' by Coldplay._

"..."

"I missed you too" Yassen said. He frowned when he realised he was talking to the dialling tone. Quickly he pocketed his phone and looked out over the huge city sprawled out below him. He took a deep breath and exhaled peacefully.

Alex Rider was somewhere down there. Yassen let himself wonder about the boy. He had an uncanny resemblance to John. With his mother's eyes. He was still so young. Too young to be used. But then again, was Yassen any better, training Jamie? John Rider would never have let his boys get into the trouble they somehow managed to. But maybe it was fate. Or something stronger.

Whatever the case, Yassen couldn't deny that he worried about Alex. He'd taken to checking in on the boy any time he was in England and had managed to piece together, through things he'd learned himself and information he'd gathered from contacts, that Alex had been black-mailed into working for MI6. He was living with an SAS lieutenant. Yassen had brushed with the man before, Wolf, and he hadn't seemed like the family type. Wolf's fiance, Jack Starbright, had been threatened by MI6 with deportation.

As to how Alex was brought to the government's attention, Yassen had no explanation. He supposed it had been to do with Alex being John's son.

Yassen frowned. Alex was not his concern. He was already looking after one Rider and Jamie was enough for anyone. At least with this infatuation of his. Yassen shook his head and wondered if he was the only person who dwelt on thoughts when he was alone. Probably.

Maybe the pressure of trying to help Matthew was finally getting to him. He'd been assigned to more and more missions than ever and the strain was getting hold of him. At least now, after that nasty business with Sayle, he could finally take a few weeks to re cooperate.

Or maybe it was this 'relationship' Jamie had been pulled into. Ella Port was not on equal footing with Jamie. At least, not in Matthew's eyes. Ella didn't love Jamie. She did enjoy having a non commitment relationship with an added element of danger. Plus the fact that Matthew would give Jamie the hiding of a lifetime if he got wind of his daughter's 'habits'.

Maybe it was Scorpia. They were getting ready to eradicate Stiletto and Matthew was too arrogant to see what was happening right before his eyes. A storm was brewing and Yassen had every intention of grabbing Jamie and running the minute it started to pour.

Jamie. Should he tell Jamie about Alex working for MI6? Probably. But he knew he wasn't going to tell Jamie. That would be ridiculous. The boy would fly off the handle and go into the Royal & General all guns blazing. He'd be killed in a matter of seconds. So then, that only left one option. To not tell him. And it would probably best if he had a word with Daniil about spilling the beans.

Yassen's phone rang again and he frowned, pushing the answer button.

"Yassen, it's Doctor Rhodes" a voice said straight away. Yassen could practically hear the disdain in the man's voice. It was a well known secret that Rhodes hated him. To be honest, Yassen had no idea why. Rhodes did, however, absolutely adore Jamie and gave him the best of the best whenever Jamie had been injured.

"Yassen, Jamie called round the other day. With splintered bones. He said something abot a fight. I want to know what the hell you think you're doing, putting a boy of his age in so much danger!? He should be stacking shelves as a summer job, not fighting some maniac! How, in the name of God, did you think pinning him against a mad man was a good idea!?" Rhodes yelled into the phone.

Yassen blinked. Of course. Why Daniil was avoiding him. He'd let Jamie get away with changing the subject in their little conversation.

"Who do you think you are putting him in so much danger!? I know you bullied him into it and I think you should be asham-"

"Actually, I didn't. I haven't seen Jamie in a while. I've been on a mission that just wrapped up. So whatever happened had nothing to do with me. Now, tell me exactly what's wrong with him" Yassen said quietly, an undertone of anger in his tone.

"Oh. Okay. Well then. He had a few very severe breakages in his leg but I set them with..."

As Rhodes continued to explain Jamie's various injuries Yassen vowed silently to himself that Daniil was going to regret ever taking Jamie with him in the first place.

* * *

"Hey, Jack, we're almost out of bog roll" Wolf called from the bathroom.

"And you're being your usual charming self I see" Jack called back. Wolf smiled to himself. He was the closest he'd ever been to being perfectly content. He had a great fiance, he was making enough money to support himself, Jack and Alex and Jack's wedding plans were coming along great.

Life was great.

Wolf flushed the toilet and started washing his hands carefully. The smell of soap caught in his nostrils and he frowned.

"Jack, you bought that lavender soap again! You know I hate it. The guys will never let me hear the end of it if I turn up for an excercise smelling like lavender again" Wolf called grumpily.

Jack chuckled.

Wolf ignored her and looked around for a towel to dry his hands with. None.

"Jack! No towel" he called loudly.

Jack let out an exasperated sigh while Wolf reached for the tiny bit of toilet roll that remained. Wolf dried his hands and went to dump the soaking toilet paper in the bin as Jack appeared in the door with a towel.

"I took it to wash it. You're lucky I have no problem with washing your smellies otherwise you'd be filthy" Jack said, grinning.

But Wolf wasn't listening. He was staring down at the bin. More specifically, what was in the bin. A plain white pregnancy test smiled up at him, the little pink cross mocking him silently.

The word that sprang to mind then was so foul to Wolf that he couldn't eve turn to look at his fiance. Four letters that would disrupt his nearly prefectly content existence.

B-A-B-Y.

* * *

"So you gave him the letter?" Ian asked his brother quietly. The thunderous waves were showering him in spray and he closed his eyes against the salty sting.

John nodded and stood beside his brother, shoulder to shoulder.

"He's grown up so fast" John commented dryly. He was still in a daze from his encounter with Jamie. It had been an emotional occasion and he still wasn't quite sure what had happened. One minute he was staring into his son's eyes, the next he was bolting away from him.

"Kids have a nasty habit of doing that" Ian replied. He turned and started to make his way back to the holiday home he'd rented. John followed, rubbing his palms together to try and get a bit of heat into them.

"I suppose. He looks like his mum. His hair's a lot darker than I when I last saw him" John said, running a hand through his hair.

"You saw him last when he was six. He was never going to stay the same" Ian said, smiling to himself.

"You're right. But he has little mannerisms. He runs his hand through his hair when he's thinking something over. And he tilts his head to the side when he's listening to someone speak to him. And his mouth, it quirks a little if he thinks somethings funny" John said aloud, more to himself than Ian.

Ian snorted in amusement.

"How long did you follow him for?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder at his older brother.

"A week. He's got a girlfriend too" John replied, staring out to sea.

"You do that too. You run a hand through your hair when you're thinking" Ian said, grinning.

John smirked. It was nice to be able to talk to his brother without both of them having their guards fully up. Without having to worry about their jobs.

"You should meet up with Alex as soon as you can. He'll have missed you a lot, John" Ian said quietly.

John nodded to himself. That was the next thing on his to do list. Pay Alex a visit. Poor kid had been left out of the loop long enough. It was time to tell him what was really going on behind the scenes.

"What about Helen? How's your investigation going?" Ian inquired.

John took a deep breath and exhaled tranquilly.

"That's what I meant to talk to you about. Remember how Helen's mum raised her? Remember how her dad left them when Helen was really young? Well, he was a scientist. G. Beckett. I dug up an article about him disappearing two months after he left Helen's mum. Then his trail goes cold. And, I finally got contact details for Helen's mum. Called her and told her I was a detective looking into the plane explosion" John said quickly.

"And?" Ian pressed for his brother to continue.

"She told me that Helen's dad's name was Gregory Beckett" John finished.

Ian frowned.

"Gregory Beckett? What's so big about that?" he asked.

"Because, my baby brother, Gregory Beckett specialized in biochemistry. And five years after he left Helen's mum he got work at a place called Estrov. In Russia. Hired to assist in developing weapons for biochemical warfare. Thirteen and a half years later the place blew up. Gregory died. His wife died six months later on his son's fourteenth birthday" John explained in a flat tone, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"And? So what, Helen had a half-brother? Is he still alive?" Ian asked, genuinely puzzled.

John let the question hang in the air. Ian reflected upon the information and then, five minutes later, gave a slight gasp.

"No" he said shortly.

"I'm afraid so" John replied.

"Does he know?" Ian asked.

"Not as far as I know. Neither did Helen. Just one of those funny little connections that go un-noticed" John said gently.

Ian shook his head.

"No. That is too big to go unnoticed. MI6 had a file on both of them. They would have realised it" Ian said.

"No one did. Funny really, isn't it? How the two of them both impacted on me separately? They both probably thought of me as the only thing linking the two of them. But I'm sure of one thing Ian. Helen _is_ out there somewhere. And she's had ten years to find out that piece of information. So I'm guessing she knows" John replied.

"John, Helen would've surface by now if she was alive. If she is alive, and that's a huge if, she's probably in a coma in an MI6 clinic. Or confined to one anyway, whether she needs it or not. They'd never let her get out. What makes you so sure she's alive anyway?" Ian said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"She is Ian. I can feel it in my gut. And I'm going to find her" John said determinedly.

Ian let out a low whistle.

"So, Gregory Beckett. Father of two. I did always wonder where Yassen got Gregorovich from. Russian names with the father and the ending, right?" Ian said.

John nodded.

Later that night Ian drifted into John's room and leaned on the door frame with one shoulder.

"So, you said Jamie considers himself Russian, didn't you?" he asked.

John rolled over to face his brother and nodded.

"So, is he Jamie Ivanovich or Jamie Yassenovich?" Ian asked.

John threw a pillow at Ian and smiled at him.

"My name's not Ivan. I'm not Russian" he said, neglecting the question.

Ian smirked.

"'Night big brother. It's nice to have you back" he said, switching off John's light.

"'Night Ian. It's nice to be back" John replied, rolling over. An hour later the question was still gnawing at his mind, relentlessly denying him sleep. Jamie. Was he really a Rider after all the time that had passed?

* * *

_Okay, so, that was fun, right? I know the end wasn't so great but it was the best I had. Anyway, I have a serious recommendation for you. There's a new author I'm betaing for; DreamsInBlackAndWhite. She's posting a story soon called 'The Baby Book' that I've done beta on. I think it's really great for a first ever story and I'd really appreciate it if you'd check it out because she's very self conscious about her writing and she needs a bit of reassurance. I had to practically beg her to make an account! Am I allowed mention other author's stories here?_

_Please Review, it makes my day!_


	4. Everybody's Got The Fever

**Disclaimer: Honey, ain't nothin' changed since last chapter.**

**Another Jamie chapter. We're having a lot of those, aren't we? Don't worry, I have a funny chapter coming next. Well, not really funny - funny but funny-in-a-dysfunctional-relationship-counselling-funny way. Did that make any sense to you? 'Cause I'm lost. The chapter title comes from the song 'You Give Me Fever' by Peggy Lee**

**Okay. Enough. On with the frickin' story!!**

Jamie groaned softly to himself. He ached all over. His wrists burned, his head throbbed and his stomach churned. The light filtering in through the heavy, dark blue curtains was making his eyes ache too so he pulled the covers over his head.

He emitted another groan. The small movement had caused a series of painful explosions to erupt throughout him.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Jamie, are you getting up today? It's almost noon" Yassen called calmly. Jamie groaned again and the Russian appeared in the door of his room.

"Jamie?" Yassen said gently. But not gently enough to hold back the powerful throbs in Jamie's eardrums. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, covering his entire body in it. He was so cold. Every little movement hurt him badly.

"G'ay" he mumbled hoarsely. Even that hurt his throat. He started coughing roughly and didn't stop for a full two minutes.

Yassen frowned. He was an expert at muffled/sleepy Jamie. It was practically the second language of the household. 'G'ay' translated roughly into 'Go away' and formally into 'Thank for your very polite enquiry Yassen but I am not feeling the best right now and would appreciate it if you could please leave me to rest in peace here'.

"Are you ok?" Yassen asked. Jamie barely heard him through the layers of blanket wrapped around him.

"'verything 'urts" Jamie mumbled.

Yassen peeled the blanket away and Jamie held his head tentatively. He looked up, dimly aware that Yassen was standing over him with a concerned look on his face.

"You look awful" Yassen said softly. Jamie curled into a ball and coughed again, the effort racking his whole frame with tremors. Everything ached and throbbed. Jamie shivered.

Yassen disappeared and came back a minute later. He tried to put the electric thermometer in Jamie's ear but the teenager rolled away. He swatted slowly at Yassen, the movement drawing a gasp from him. The pain was awful.

"N' get th' 'momometer 'way fr'm m'" Jamie mumbled loudly. Yassen ignored him and jammed the instrument in Jamie's ear, reading it a minute later.

"You're running a temperature" Yassen said calmly, as if he was simply commenting on the weather. Jamie rolled over slowly, groaning from the pain. Yassen jerked the blanket back over him.

"Forty degrees. You definitely have a fever" Yassen said. Jamie gasped. He was so cold! Why was his room so cold!?

"S' 'old" Jamie slurred, rolling back into a ball.

Yassen frowned. Either Jamie was saying 'She's old' or 'So cold'. He had a feeling it was the latter but with a fever he wasn't going to rule anything out.

"I think you have the flu Jamie" Yassen informed.

"Sh' th' fuck u'" Jamie said blearily. Yassen's lips twitched. That was charming. Just lovely. So he wasn't too sick to swear anyway.

"Hey Jamie, you up yet!?" Daniil called, appearing in the door of the room.

Jamie groaned and pulled the blanket further over his head.

"Leave him Daniil. He's sick" Yassen warned. Daniil rolled his eyes. The other Russian had been particularly frosty to him ever since Rhodes ratted them out. What ever happened to doctor patient confidentiality?

Daniil retreated back downstairs and Yassen turned back around just in time to see Jamie stumble to the en suite. Yassen heard the sounds of Jamie retching up the contents of his stomach and followed to assist him back to his bed.

Jamie was lying slumped against the toilet, groaning loudly. His hands were clutching his stomach. Yassen helped him back to his feet and propped him back into his bed. Jamie curled up again, groaning softly to himself.

"Im sor'y 'bou th' letter. I sh' ha' to'd you 'bout i'" Jamie mumbled. Yassen frowned. 'I'm sorry about the letter. I should have told you about it'. What letter was he talking about?

"I sh' ha' giv'n i' t' you" Jamie continued. Yassen frowned. 'I should have given it to you'. So Jamie had been hiding something from him. A letter. And it was probably in this room. Maybe if he asked, Jamie would tell him where it was.

"Where's the letter Jamie?" Yassen asked gently. Jamie scuffled around on his bed and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from under his pillow. He stretched out his hand and offered the paper to Yassen.

Yassen took it silently and folded it. He'd read it later when he had time. Right now he had to sort through the Medical box and find something, anything, that would help Jamie.

* * *

Yassen sat in the overstuffed armchair with a hand massaging his temples. His laptop was on his lap and the living room lights were on. Daniil was lying on the corner sofa, stretched out lazily and he was dozing quietly.

Yassen heard a thump from upstairs and smiled slightly to himself. Jamie was awake then.

Daniil sat up abruptly and looked at the ceiling above him. Jamie's room was directly above them so they could hear him frantically tearing around. They heard more thumps as Jamie scattered things to the floor. He was looking for something.

It had been a very long day. Yassen had been looking after Jamie and when the teenager had finally dropped off to sleep after hours of being sick Daniil had kindly informed Yassen that Matthew wanted to talk to them about security.

After a two hour talk with Matthew, Yassen was absolutely spent. Jamie was still moving around frantically upstairs. The noise stopped and Yassen heard Jamie start down the stairs loudly.

Yassen looked out the living room door which was opposite the bottom of the stairs. Jamie appeared there a minute later. His eyes were large and feverish, his hair sticking up erratically. He was pale and sick looking. He wore a loose blue t-shirt and navy pyjama bottoms but no socks. His clothes stuck to him with sweat.

Yassen got to his feet and raised an eyebrow.

"Jamie?" he said quietly.

Jamie's eyes snapped across. Slate met pale blue and Yassen had the strangest feeling that he could actually tell what Jamie was about to do.

The teen's gaze flickered to the door and back to Yassen's eyes.

"Jamie?" Yassen repeated.

Jamie bounded down the last two steps, landing lightly. Yassen padded out to him and was about to say something when Jamie sprang.

The teen barreled into the Russian, momentarily distracting him with flailing limbs. Yassen threw Jamie off him and Jamie hit the floor. Hard. Jamie pulled a knife out from the waistband of his trousers and swung at Yassen. The Russian stepped back carefully, avoiding the blade.

His eyes flashed. He was furious. He'd spent all day trying to look after Jamie and now the boy was attacking him. Yassen darted forward, feinted and made to snatch the knife from Jamie.

Jamie pulled back, alarmed. He was still running a fever and he looked delirious. The knife slipped from his grip and fell. The tip plunged silently into his thigh. Jamie gasped loudly and stared uncomprehendingly at the knife. He grasped the handle and pulled it from himself with a grunt.

Yassen just watched silently. Then he started to piece things together. The only plausible explanation for Jamie's behaviour was the letter. Jamie wanted it back. That's what he'd been looking for in his room.

Yassen slowly pulled the letter out of his back pocket. Quick as a flash, Jamie tried to grab it. He got a grip of one corner and ran. The letter ripped down the middle. Jamie continued running. Yassen was frozen for a minute. It wasn't often something stopped him dead in his tracks. But this had. What made the letter so important to Jamie?

Yassen pulled on his boots swiftly and then sprinted out the front door after Jamie. It wasn't hard to follow the footprints and bloodstains. It had snowed heavily all day and Jamie's footprints were sunken into the snow. He wasn't wearing any shoes. He'd freeze in this weather.

Yassen could hear Daniil following him. He was grateful for the back-up. It might take both of them to restrain Jamie without hurting him.

Yassen found the trail stopped in the garage. He could hear the dull drum of an engine speeding away from him. Without a word, he jumped into one of the sports cars. Daniil slid into the passenger seat and Yassen sped off, Daniil barely closing the door in time.

Yassen could read the scrap of the letter later. Right now Jamie was in danger. Real, stark danger.

* * *

_Why is it so effing hot!? Why the hell am I smothered in blanket!?_

Jamie groggily opened his eyes, his head pounding. His clothes were plastered to him with sweat. Slowly he rolled over, snatches of the day returning to him. Being cold...Daniil had come up...And he'd given Yassen the letter.

Nothing too embarrassing. Jamie ran through the list again and a gasp slipped from his mouth.

_I gave Yassen the letter!? I decided to keep it secret from him! What in the name of God possessed me to give it to him!? Maybe I didn't. I'll check my room for it, just in case._

Jamie jumped out of bed and swayed on his feet for a minute. He nearly fell but decided to keep moving. If he stopped he'd fall. Quickly he raced around the room, checking the various places he'd hidden things before. Yassen usually found anything he hid anyway.

Nothing. It was definitely gone. In a moment of despair he checked under his pillow. It was double definitely gone. That meant he had given it to Yassen.

_What the hell is wrong with me!? Why would I just give him the thing I'd been trying to keep secret all week!?_

Jamie grabbed a knife and tucked it into the waistband of his sticky pyjamas. He would need it if he was to run away. He'd need protection. He was about to descend the stairs when, on an afterthought, he grabbed his phone. He stuffed it into the pocket of pyjama bottoms and then exited his room.

He started down the stairs sluggishly. The world swayed around him. He felt woozy. He stepped down onto the last few stairs and looked around. His vision tilted. Everything was blurry and distorted.

An echoey voice broke through to him. "_Jamie?Jamie?Jamie?Jamie?Jamie?_". Each word made his head pound dully. Jamie looked over and felt Yassen pale blue eyes scrutinizing him.

Jamie gave the door a stealthy glance then flicked his gaze back to Yassen.

"_JAMIE?JAMIE?JAMIE?JAMIE?JAMIE?_". Even though Yassen was speaking quietly it felt like a yell to Jamie. His ears pounded loudly. The pain blackened the edges of his vision.

He jumped down the last few stairs and landed carefully, aware of just how much pain he was causing himself.

Yassen walked out to the hall and Jamie launched himself. The movement caused him almost unbearable pain. Then, Yassen flung him back. He hit the floor hard, his breath knocked from him.

He pulled the knife out and waved it clumsily. He was now seeing two Yassens. The Yassens lunged at him and he dropped the knife. It fell in slow motion before slicing painfully into his leg. Jamie reached down and grabbed it. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that if he pulled the knife out the cut would heal in a few minutes.

The Yassens pulled out the letter.

_GRAB IT!_His brain screamed dully at him. He did try. But all he succeeded in doing was ripping the page. Jamie ran. He sprinted labouredly out the door. He had no idea where he was going. He was still too warm. He sprinted blindly into the night.

Smells tore at his nostrils. The air seemed too heavy for him to inhale. He gulped a lungful of oxygen and stumbled clumsily. He banged into a medium sized concrete wall and it dimly struck him that he would find a car inside.

_Car equals Escape. Escape equals good._

With that enlightening thought, Jamie pulled open the door of the first car he saw. It happened to be a black Murciélago LP640 Roadster. Hardly inconspicuous. The keys were actually in the exhaust. Jamie started the engine and pressed the pedal to the floor. The car leaped forward. Jamie just about found the lights in time to swerve. He managed to swerve dangerously, and avoided crashing into a wall.

The gates opened automatically and Jamie zoomed out. He was driving too fast. Things whirled past so quickly he felt like throwing up. Reality was distorted badly. He could hear a car behind him giving pursuit but it didn't stand a chance. He was in the fastest car Yassen kept.

He dimly changed the gears and drifted across the road. He took the first exit he came to and followed the road as best he could down into the city. He managed to scratch the car twice and nearly puncture a tire but when he stopped the car it was still fully functional.

He had only been in the city a handful of times, almost always to use the airport. But he'd made it his business to find out everything he could about it, which wasn't a lot. It was called Omsk and it was the seventh most populated city or town in Russia. He knew exactly where the airport was. He knew that it was one thousand seven hundred miles from Moscow. He knew Yassen had come through it as a teenager on a freight train. He knew it was in Siberia. He knew that the Irtysh River ran through the city. And that was it.

He also knew he was a five minute walk from the airport.

He got out of the car and stumbled up the street, leaving the keys in the ignition. A couple who were passing gave him strange looks. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his toes were numb. They were stinging. A temperature dial fixed to the side of a building told him it was minus nineteen degrees Celsius. His hair was plastered to his head, snow stinging his scalp.

Using the wall of the building he was passing for support, he managed to drag his feet all the way around the corner. The small airport, backed by it's airfield, greeted him. He smiled. He'd never been so happy to see a block of concrete waiting for him. It was like the airport had it's arm outstretched to welcome him. "Come on Jamie", it seemed to call in a sing song voice, "It's warm and toasty inside".

Jamie forced himself forward into the building and collapsed onto one of the few free, hard wooden benches. The airport usually only catered for large aircraft but Yassen had, with a little help from a couple of hundred thousand euros, convinced the city mayor to allow him to fly his private plane from the airfield.

Jamie rested for a few minutes and waited for the world to stop swimming around him. He couldn't fly on the private plane. He didn't have the money for a plane ticket. And he was attracting some very concerned looks from people passing by him. Then again, he was wearing no shoes or socks, he was in pyjamas and he looked like a runaway orphan.

He could feel a strange warmth seeping through him and he blinked slowly. His eyelids were drooping. Maybe he'd just rest for a minute or two and then he'd think of a plan. Yes, that was a good plan.

_Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop. Water. Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop. It was red. Red and blue. Blue and red. There was a guitar playing a cat. A guitar playing a cat? That didn't sound quite right. And there was pain. Agonising, tear drawing pain. Crippling, knee buckling pain. His back bone was going to snap. But hope. There was always hope. Large blue eyes. Frowning at him. "JAMIE?JAMIE?JAMIE?JAMIE?JAMIE?"._

The sound of his phone ringing woke Jamie. Blearily, he pulled it out of his pocket. He answered it, just to make the ringing stop. His head was pounding, he was itchy and he felt like he was melting.

With a huge effort and a huge sting of pain, he pulled the phone up to his ear.

"Jamie, where are you!? Yassen's really, really mad. Seriously Jamie. What did you think you were doing, running off like that!? Daniil's out of his brain worrying! Max and Dad are out looking for you. Emma Jane is crying her eyes out. And meanwhile, I'm stuck here trying to hold things together! I've been driving around Osk or Mosk or whatever the hell this god forsaken city is called all day! Now, cut the emo bull crap and tell me exactly where you are!?"

Jamie tried to raise an eyebrow but he couldn't manage it. He was so warm. But Ella was on the phone.

_Maybe if I tell her where I am, she'll get me back to England..._

"Th' a'rport" Jamie slurred.

He listened closely, ears straining for Ella's reply.

"The airport? Right, I'm on my way there. Just stay right where you are you stupid dog-brained lady boy" she said, hanging up.

Jamie lay back on the bench and stared up at the roof. He was so tired. And so warm. And so sore. Every single inch of him ached and strained. His head was pounding so hard he could barely think straight. But he could think. However fractured and warped his thoughts currently were. Ella was on her way. That meant he would be safe. All that mattered now was not passing out before she arrived.

He set himself that goal. But it was getting harder to breathe. Maybe he was just imagining it. But air was getting harder and harder to inhale. He'd just close his eyes for a few minutes. He'd be fine. He had a goal.

He failed miserably trying to meet that goal. But when Ella arrived, she didn't find a filthy, feverish teenager passed out on a bench. She found nothing. Because Jamie had vanished into thin air.

* * *

"He's waking up".

"No he's not. Look at him. He's as high as a kite. We've pumped enough morphine into him to take out a rhino. He's still out cold and in a few minutes he'll be dead".

"No he's not. Look at him. He's waking up".

"Mrs. Rothman, with all due respect, no-one could wake up after that. Now, if you'd please leave so I can arrange a burial for him?".

"Be quiet you fool! Look at him! Does he look dead to you?".

"Mrs. Rothman, he had Pulmonary Anthrax. Mortality rate for that is nearly one hundred percent. He'd already suffered a very severe respiratory collapse when you brought him in. He'll be dead within minutes".

"Nearly one hundred percent. That's what you said. Look at him. He's blinking. He's breathing. He can hear us".

"What? Mrs. Rothman, he's not breathing. He's dead".

"You imbecile. Actually look at him. He's looking at you! He's alive. Now, quickly, check his pulse. I do not want him to relapse".

"Yes. Of course Mrs. Rothman. Right away Mrs. Rothman".

"And you my brave, brave boy. Well, you can just relax. Because everything will be just fine".

* * *

**Two Days Later**

The twelve year old girl sniffled loudly. She buried her face in the rather large pink teddy bear she was cuddling. Misery was etched on her face. The room she was in was full of toys and board games, all strewn on the floor carelessly. The girl had a very bad headache and she felt the tiniest bit too warm but that was not what was distressing her.

She heard the front door of her home open and she jumped from her bed, racing out of the room and down the staircase into the hall. She clutched the pink teddy bear and watched hopefully as the rest of her family trooped in. They'd flown to Russia, leaving her with her nanny, Ms. Finch after Jamie disappeared.

Her elder sister, Ella, smiled sadly at her.

"He was gone when we got there Em" she informed the girl.

Emma Jane Port started crying in earnest. Ella rolled her eyes. She had no idea why Emma Jane was so hysterical. If Jamie wanted to be an ass and run away that was his call. Yassen and Daniil would find him anyway.

Max walked past Ella and lifted up his younger sister. He hugged her warmly.

"Em, he'll be fine. He'll go sulk for a few days and then he'll call Yassen" Max said. He cuddled his younger sister and carried her into the living room where he sat down on the sofa, seating her on his lap.

Matthew Port watched his three children. They were sitting together on the sofa and, for once, they were not arguing pettily about something. There was Max. His boy. He was seventeen and he looked just like his mother. He had her curly, black hair. And her darker complexion. He had strong features and he was built well. More muscled than Matthew had been at that age.

Ella was leaning against her brother's shoulder. She was beautiful. And she was getting more beautiful every single day that passed. She had Matthew's forhead. And she had her grandma's hair. Brown. But with her mother's curls. Max and Ella were twins but they couldn't have been more different. Max was calming and thoughtful. He was deeper, more dreamy than Ella. Ella was fiery and stubborn and when she didn't get her own way there was hell to pay.

Emma Jane was sleeping with tears on her cheeks. She was so adorable. So innocent for her age. She knew nothing of her father's business. She hero worshipped Jamie. He was like a brother and a hero and a friend rolled in one. Every second sentence she said began with "Jamie did/said/is/will blah blah blah".

_I like Jamie, don't get me wrong. But..._

Matthew wasn't sure what it was about the boy that made him think Jamie knew something he didn't. Or the way he saw non existent romance between Ella and Jamie. He was rather paranoid when it came to that boy. He insisted on Yassen watching him closely. He had a feeling Jamie would be his doom. Or maybe he would be Jamie's doom. It was hard to tell.

His mobile phone rang loudly. He picked up out of habit and pressed his phone to his ear.

"Hello Matthew" a female voice purred down the line. Matthew frowned.

"Julia" he replied curtly.

If there was one woman he could not stand it was Julia bloody Rothman.

"Just thought I'd call to give you my condolences".

"Condolences? And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve this act of charity?" Matthew asked sarcastically. He was tempted to hang up.

"For your death and the deaths of your children. A tragic loss".

Matthew frowned. What was that lunatic ranting about now?

"Because, Matthew, unknown to you you've been contaminated with Anthrax. Pulmonary Anthrax. And you'll die soon. But not before your children. Ella will die first. Then Max. And then little Emma Jane. And it will be a slow, stretched out death. You should just put your children out of their misery".

"You're bluffing" Matthew said. Deep down he had a sense of dread.

"Oh no, no I'm not. Jamie Rider caught it from Ella. Because he had sexual intercourse with your darling girl. But we got to him in time. He's still got an awful fever. And just last night he signed a contract. With Scorpia. He sold himself to us. And do you know why? Because he begged me, he pleaded with me, to save Ella. So I'm giving you a heads up. It makes me smile when I think of it. Young love and all that".

Matthew's stomach twisted into a tight knot.

"Now you have a choice. Free Jamie by making it impossible for me to stick to my guarantee of Ella's safety. Of course, Ella would have to die. Or you can save your children before you die and in doing so hand Jamie over to me. And you will die. I made sure to give you a more lethal dose. You have a few days left. Ella has two. For a man with your connections, it shouldn't be a problem getting her the help she needs".

"Rothman you little-"

"Au revoir Matthew. Enjoy".

The line went dead. Matthew got to his feet, ready to wake his children. He had work to do. There would be no sleep for any of them tonight. Sleep would come later. Tonight he would have to take Rothman's word for it and seek help.

* * *

**Okay. It took me a while to finally settle on the disease ridden chappie. I know this story has a weird timeline and it's not really cannon but give me a few more chapters and you'll see what's happened with Alex and MI6 and everything.**

**Phew. Another chapter. Another inch down the pipeline. Now, I have a weird question for you. If I wrote a story about Yassen being baby-sat as a child would it just be stupid?**

**And, also, I'd just like to mention my sister. She's DreamsInBlackAndWhite. She's really great at writing. She's obsessed with everything Alex Rider. She stole all my copies of the books. But I love her to bits. This chapter is dedicated to her because she is battling her own medical demons at the mo. You should read her stuff. It's great.**

**I'd also like to say thank you to all the people who offered to beta for me. You're all very kind. And all the people who would beta but were too busy. You guys rock anyway because you reviewed. Anyway, my sister has offered to beta so I'm going to take her up on that. Family allegiance and all that.**

**Thank you all. Please review. I mean seriously. Really. Please.**


	5. A Love Back Home Unfolds

**Disclaimer: I do not and never will own the Alex Rider series. **

_Another chapter for you to read. I thought I'd slide the story back towards London. I do believe, unless I change my mind drastically, that the next chapter will be an Alex chapter. And in case you're wondering, don't worry, the contents of the letter will be unearthed. Bit by bit. In my first attempt at any real kind of suspense. And I have a lovely chunk of questions for you at the end of the chapter for you. YAY!!_

_The title of this chapter is from the song 'Violet Hill' by Coldplay._

It was the sort of building you could walk past without noticing: three storeys high, painted white with tall windows peering down at the sidewalk. The name of the place was written in Calligraphic Handwriting on a brass plaque beside the door.

Gold & Sampson Relationship Therapy.

An angry face stared out the window, glaring at the passers by. Jamie Byrne aka Wolf was not a happy man at the moment. His blissful, contented existence had been shaken to the core when he discovered his fiance was pregnant. The relationship therapist, who was costing Wolf a fortune, watched the man carefully.

The therapist had introduced himself as Dr. Hughes. He was a short, shrewd man who had beady, observant eyes that watched through his spectacles. He picked up on every movement the couple made and was constantly noting things down on his clipboard.

"Jack, why don't you tell me how you two met?" Dr. Hughes asked pleasantly.

"Well, we were a small party with mutual friends-"

_Lie. We were actually out clubbing with 'mutual friends' and Eagle had introduced us in his drunken, peculiar way._

"I was standing on one side of the room. It was New Years Eve so we were all waiting for the countdown to start. Anyway, I looked up from my drink and noticed that this really good looking guy was watching me".

_Lie. Not that I'd ever tell her the truth. I was actually watching the leggy blond behind her. Damn that blond. She's had a date with her. Eagle had got it into his very drunk head that I fancied his girlfriend's American mate._

"I blushed and I looked back down at my drink. When I looked up again, he was gone. Then, about ten minutes before the countdown started, I heard this husky voice behind me say 'Can I buy you a mojito?'"

_Another lie. Eagle had introduced us and then, very embarrassed and drunk, I offered her a pint. I can tell you now, she didn't refuse. She drank the whole thing in like, two gulps. Then the countdown started and we snogged. She came back to mine that night and had been hungover enough to agree to a date the next morning._

"So, we found a quiet comfortable corner and started talking. We both had a lot in common-"

_Lie. All we had in common was that we were both totally out of it._

"The countdown started and I looked down at my drink again. Then, I felt someone lifting my chin. Our eyes met and his were just smouldering with passion. Our lips touched and I just knew we were meant to be".

_Biggest load of bull I'd ever heard. We'd snogged in one of the stalls of the gents bathroom. My eyes weren't smouldering with anything. I was drunk for Christ's sake!_

Wolf raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"Were you actually so drunk you don't remember anything about that night?" he inquired.

"Alright James, your turn to speak. Now James, why don't you tell us few of the things Jack does that annoy you?" Dr Hughes suggested politely.

Wolf took a deep breath. He was about to launch into a tirade of little habits he found irritating when he suddenly struck something deep down inside himself. Sure, Jack could be annoying. But it was good annoying. The kind of annoying that wasn't annoying.

_Does make any sense at all?_

"There's nothing. I actually like everything she does".

The air sparked with electricity. Silence stretched between them. Jack was staring at the wall but she had the good grace to blush.

_You better blush. I just put myself out there for you._

"Okay. Jack, what about things that James does that annoy you?" Dr. Hughes continued.

"He bites his nails, he leaves the windows open every night, he falls asleep anywhere at anytime after sitting down for a minute or two, he leaves dirty clothes on the floor of our bedroom, he snores, he wears his socks in bed. He plays really rubbish music really loudly. He never opens the window while he showers and the whole room gets all steamy. He leaves the milk out on the counter anytime he uses it. He-"

"I leave the milk out in case you want to use it!" Wolf protested.

"James, no interrupting. Jack didn't interrupt you when you were talking" Dr. Hughes said sternly.

"What!? I used eight words! Eight! Not much chance for an interruption the-"

"He interrupts me all the time! He moans about how much I spend on clothes. He calls me every two hours to see what I'm doing! That's almost obsessive compulsive, wouldn't you say so Doctor Hughes? He leaves toast crumbs in the butter. He never scrapes off his plate after he's done eating. He won't let me buy scented soap. He insists on using the industrial, carbonic crap soap. He buys the most hideous t-shirts ever. He told my mother to shut the hell up. He-"

"I told your mam to shut the hell up because she was criticizing your cooking!" Wolf said, glowering at his fiance and appealing silently to Doctor Hughes to shut her up.

"James, you heard the Doctor! I didn't interrupt you when you were talking! You see Doctor? I have to put up with that all day every day" Jack chimed in a sing song voice.

"None of that crap ever bothered you before. It's because of that little monstrosity inside you. And it's just going to get worse. Besides, how the hell are you pregnant anyway!? You told me you were on the Jack" Wolf snapped.

Jack's mouth hung open in astonishment for a minute.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" she hissed at him.

Wolf's scowl deepened. Jack had never understood rhyming slang. That annoyed him. Damnit. Why the hell had he decided to be sweet and nice for once!? Whenever he was sweet and nice he got hurt in his relationship.

"Pill, Jack. Jack and Jill. Slang for pill" Wolf replied, getting to his feet and shrugging on his coat.

"Where the hell are you going!?" Jack yelled at his retreating form. Wolf paused for a second in the doorway and pulled his collar up. He took a deep breath and glanced back over his shoulder at his fiance.

"I don't know. But I'm starting to think you want to take a different road" he said before exiting the room, slamming the door behind him.

Jack stared after him and Doctor Hughes's beady eyes glanced from the door to Jack and then back again. He opened his mouth then closed it again. He had no idea what he should say. The woman was clearly upset. Her jaw was flapping open and the closed like a fish. Doctor Hughes had to beat back the urge to laugh. The woman looked from him to the door at least several times before getting to her feet.

"I'm very sorry Doctor Hughes. I'll call you when I get home and tell you if we need to arrange another appointment. But I've got to-"

"Go after him. I understand" Doctor Hughes finished her sentence for her.

Jack got to her feet and pulled on her coat before dashing out of the office. She raced out the front doors of the building and looked around. She had no idea where Wolf had gone or if he was ever going to come back.

_Calm down. It's pouring rain. Go home and wait for him._

She made her way to the nearest bus stop and stood under the shelter, miserable. Where was he? She tried ringing him twice but he was ignoring her calls. Her bus arrived and as she paid the fee she sent him a text. '**I luv u. Remembr that**'.

* * *

Jack lay on the sofa with a mug of tea. She was doing her head in worrying. Alex was staying at Tom's for the weekend. But Wolf still hadn't turned up. There'd been a thunder storm all day and hail was beating against the window of the flat. Lightning was ripping across the sky. He was out there in that, somewhere.

The door opened and Jack sat up with a start. She stared over at the doorway and actually felt her heart flutter. He was soaked. His hair was plastered to his head and was dripping into his eyes. His clothes clung to him. He looked like he'd gone swimming fully dressed. He was clutching a plastic bag to his chest and was regarding her with big brown eyes.

Then, he crossed the room in two paces. He picked her up, ignoring her squealed protests, and lay down with her on his chest.

"Wolf, you're soaking! You're dripping all over me!" she said indignantly.

Wolf grinned, it had to be said, wolfishly. He was twirling a segment of her hair around a soaking finger. He kissed her cheek lightly and then ran his free hand through his hair.

"Where were you?" Jack asked, rolling around so she was facing him. She rubbed his cheek absent mindedly and he closed his eyes for a minute before opening them again. His gaze searched her face carefully before he spoke.

"I went to an abortion clinic. And I got clued in. You've been up the duff for nine weeks. Your baby is, like, one and a quarter inches long and it weighs eight grams. And it has all its organs. So that got me thinking. That little thing has lungs. And a liver. And kidneys. And a tiny, tiny heart. It probably has hair too. And the doctor told me it can't feel pain. But I went on this website and it can. It can hear what's going on. Hell, it can probably hear me right now" Wolf said, toying with her hair.

"And? What about it?" Jack asked. She didn't even want to hope about Wolf might say. She might just end up let down by expecting anything.

"So then I went to Unplanned Pregnancy. And I got the info on that. And I know you're going to be grumpy and moany and whingey and your going to get weird cravings. And you're going to be a sarky cow for nine months. But then I went to the park. And I saw this guy pushing his little daughter on the swings. And I started thinking about after nine months. How a little person is going to come out of you. And at first I thought 'that's disgusting! A little human is going to squeeze out of her!'. But after I got used to the idea it didn't seem as disgusting" Wolf said.

Very gently, Jack felt his hand rub her stomach. She already had a small baby bump but she wasn't showing much. He was rubbing it and she could tell he was thinking about what was in there. The thing that had him running scared from information point to information point all across the city.

"Really? Disgusting, is it? And where do you stand on the subject now?" Jack asked. She bit back a grin. _He might not want you to keep it _her brain chimed loudly. _Shut up you idiot! I love him! _her heart replied. Talk about being a psycho.

Wolf sat up and picked up the plastic bag that he'd discarded. He pulled out a tiny garment and held it up for her appreciation. It was a light blue, baby sized sleeper suit with a little cartoon wolf on the back. Jack felt her heart twang loudly. It was adorable. She touched it gently, in an almost reverent gesture and she heard Wolf chuckle.

"I love you too. And I think that if you're willing to squeeze the thing out, I should be able to give you a hand with it" Wolf said awkwardly. He felt stupid and clumsy. Like an elephant trying to do brain surgery. Jack stiffened in his hands and he scowled. He'd said the wrong bloody thing!

"I don't want you to give me a hand. I'm not asking you for money or help. I want you to love our baby like I already do. But I don't want you to love our baby because I told you to. I want you to really love our baby. Do you?" Jack asked, her voice flat and emotionless.

Wolf ran his hand through his hair again and considered what she was asking him. How could he love something he'd never seen? He was still struggling to get used to the idea. He tried to dip into his feelings and guess what they were. There was a lot of fear and worry. A smattering of anxiety. And a little drop of happiness. But what the hell was love supposed to feel like anyway?

Love, he resoned, was wanting to look after someone when they were sick. Wolf didn't really like looking after people. Especially not kid's. Sick Alex was only just about tolerable because he just slept sickness off. But other kids were different.

Love was being ready to read a bedtime story every single night. He could do that. He would most likely enjoy doing that. Kids books were always funny for a grown up to read.

Love, he realised, was that little drop of happiness inside him. And the drop would grow, he knew that. As soon as he saw the kid, he knew he was going to be mesmirized. It was kind of cool to think about. A little mix of him and Jack that would grow into a bigger mix of him, Jack and itself.

"I do. Without a shadow of a doubt. And I'll be here for you all the way. I promise you" Wolf said, wrapping his arms tighter around Jack. He liked the feeling of having her close. And inside her was their kid. It was going to be rocky. They were going to be fighting and making up twice a day for nine months. They were going to argue and scream at each other a million times. He'd probably regret agreeing once or twice. But at the end it would all be worth it.

Jack made a noise somewhere between a sigh of relief and a groan.

"What's wrong?" Wolf asked, trying to deny the stab of worry in his chest.

"Just the idea of a mini you running around the flat. We'll have to get someplace else. A house maybe" Jack mused aloud. Wolf smirked and then a thought crossed his mind.

"And we've got to tell Alex" he added.

"I already did. He was the one who said I should take the test after he caught me getting sick on Tuesday morning" Jack replied. Wolf gaped. Alex had known and hadn't mentioned a word to him!? It was devious, that much was sure.

"I'm worried about Al. We should buy one of the houses down in Hereford. It'd be close to the base for me. Not too much traffic and plenty of space for a small kid to play. Far enough from London that Alex is out of MI6's immediate area" Wolf suggested.

Jack clucked her tongue. It wasn't a bad idea.

"Snake's neighbour is selling up privately. We could put in a bid for it. We could get the money from our savings account" Wolf suggested gently. Jack inhaled sharply. They both knew what moving would do to their savings.

"That's the money we're going to spend on the wedding. And the honeymoon. We'll have to start from scratch if we move" Jack reminded him. Wolf frowned. He had been working his ass of the past eighteen months, trying to get together enough money to tread water and put some aside for the wedding. He wanted Jack to have the very best, the whole shebang. An expensive wedding dress, a fancy reception, a string quartet, a beautiful venue. The whole nine yards.

"I know. But I think it'd be the right thing to do. It'd be the best thing for all of us" Wolf said gruffly. Jack knew he wouldn't suggest spending their savings unless it was something really important. And it was important. Very important.

"Alright. Call Snake tomorrow and ask him about setting up a meeting with his neighbour. In the meantime, I have a strange craving for Waffledoodles" Jack said.

Wolf shot up and looked around worriedly.

"What the hell are Waffledoodles? You're already having cravings?" he asked urgently. Jack grinned sleepily up at him. He was so cute when he got all worried and alarmed like that.

"I made Waffledoodles up. No cravings. I was just testing you" she replied calmly.

"Very funny" Wolf said flopping back down and stroking her hair gently. Wolf let out a small rumble of laughter. Jack smiled. She loved that laugh. It sounded so nice and safe. It was like a shield.

"You passed by the way. Now lets get some shut eye" Jack said, clapping her hands. The soft lamp light flickered off and Wolf laughed. Usually that clap on monstrosity annoyed the hell out of him. Now it was finally useful for something.

Jack lay there, now very wet from Wolf's cuddle. It was incredible really. He was the only man she had ever met who would be able to tell a kid straight out that Santa wasn't real without blinking. But he was so soft and huggable. She knew he was different usually. But he let his guard down around her. And Alex. Wolf absolutely adored Alex in his own strange way.

Wolf was pushing some buttons on his phone. He held the screen in front of Jack's face for her to read. The light blinded her temporarily but she blinked and her eyes adjusted before she read what he'd typed.

'**I luv u 2. Always remembr that**'.

* * *

_Okay, firstly I'll give you an update on my life. Strange or what? Thank you all for your very kind reviews and especially for all your good messages which I told my sis about. Don't worry about her, she's just had a bit of a scare. Our GP has referred her to hospital and our mam wouldn't tell her why. Then, while our mother dearest was very drunk she told her the doctor wants her to get a cancer test. Understandably, she is very, very, very upset. But fingers crossed, she'll be fine._

_Anyway, in relation to that, if you happen to be reading any of her stories then please have a teeny bit of patience. They will be updated by me. I'm still deciphering her rather illegible handwriting and typing them up in her documents folder. And if you aren't reading her stories you should because they are just top class._

_Time for a few questions. You thought I'd dropped the habit after the last chapter...didn't you? MWAH!! You were wrong!!_

_1- Do you want mini Wolf to be a boy ot a girl??_

_2- Do you think Wolf and Jack are a believable couple??_

_3- Do you read my sis's stories?? (Okay, not strictly to do with the story but I had to do it!!)_

_4- Have you ever read the Gruffalo?? (Random but essential)_

_5- Do you think Jamie is a good OC??_

_6- Do you have any suggestions on how I could improve the story?? (Brutal honesty required)_


	6. Dysfunction Between You And Me

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Alex Rider series.**

**Read. Read. It's a long overdue update. The title of this chapter comes from the Maroon Five song 'Nothing Lasts Forever'.**

* * *

Wolf eyed the two men on the doormat of his apartment with a manly, distrustful glare. He looked the taller one up and down with a frown. He was a few inches taller than Wolf with blond hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to be taking everything in. The second one looked more relaxed but still too alert for Wolf's liking.

"Is Alex in?" the first one asked politely enough, his gaze flicking over Wolf's shoulder and then back to Wolf's.

Slowly, Wolf stepped out through the door of the flat, forcing both men to move back a half step. He closed the door behind him gently, making sure that it made no noise. Then, he turned back to face the two men again, his expression cold and calculating.

"Are you MI6? Because if you are, then the answer is no. No, Alex doesn't want to come down to your office. No, he doesn't want to work for you, you sick twisted fuck. So take your little recruitment mission and fuck off back to Liverpool Street before I have to get nasty" Wolf growled, doing his best convincingly scary voice.

Really, he didn't fancy his chances against the two men. They both had hardened, ready to fight looks about them. With a strange air of alertness surrounding them as well. Wolf had seen the type many times before. Little jumped up MI6 punks who thought they had the God given right to order everyone around and bitch about how tough their jobs were. Personally, Wolf felt that the average soldier worked twice as hard as anyone in MI6.

The men exchanged slightly baffled glances. The second one leaned against the wall of the landing. A brief flicker of worry ignited the first one's eyes. Or perhaps Wolf had just imagined it. But it had looked real.

"Look, if that's what you're here for, just piss off and cut the innocent bullcrap, alright?" Wolf snapped, scowling at the men.

"Sorry. I think we've got our wires crossed here a little bit. We're not MI6. My name is John. This is my baby brother, Ian. I just want to talk to Alex for an hour or so. You can be there if you want" the first man, John, explained calmly.

"Yeah. I will be there. I'm warning you though. You say one thing to upset the kid and I swear, so help me God, I'll kick both your arses from here to Buckingham Palace. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?" Wolf asked gruffly.

"Crystal. You have my word" John guaranteed, holding his right hand up sarcastically.

Wolf opened the door and gestured for both men to follow him inside to the living room.

Wolf gesticulated for both men to sit on the sofa, which they did, looking slightly uncomfortable. Wolf walked slowly down the small hall to Alex's bedroom door, smirking slightly at the huge 'Keep Out!' sign that ruled over most of the woodwork. He knocked roughly on the door before sticking his head in.

Alex's head poked up from his bed, glaring at Wolf. Wolf simply raised his hands in mock surrender, a wry smile curling his lips.

"What? I knocked, didn't I?" Wolf said, a bark of laughter escaping his mouth. Alex lifted himself out of bed and got to his feet, flattening his hair with his hands quickly before turning a sullen expression on Wolf.

"There are some...people who want to speak to you. They're in the living room" Wolf folding his arms across his chest. Alex gave Wolf a curious look and shrugged in a half hearted, 'Do-I-have-to?' way.

Wolf nodded, another smile curving his mouth. Alex was so predictably grumpy even after a day in bed with Jack mollycoddling him to oblivion. Alex's face stretched into a frown and he gave a strained half nod, his eyes wary like a fox caught in a trap. Wolf smothered all his manly misgivings about feelings and drew in a shaky breath.

"Are you okay about, well, you know, everything? If you ever need to, um, talk then you, well, you know where to find me, right?" the older man bit out, praying silently that Alex never approached him to talk about his emotions. Wolf could deal with terrorists, bombs and general mayhem. But a teenage boys emotions had him stumped.

"If I ever need you just shut up and be there, alright? Don't try and ask me how I feel. I just want you to be there and to be quiet" Alex responded, rubbing the back of his head sleepily.

For the third time that day, Wolf thanked God that he'd looked under the bed to find the source of the crying sound in that small house he'd raided ten years ago.

* * *

"Why do you always have to introduce me as your baby brother?" Ian Rider snapped as the living room door closed. John rubbed his temples once and sat back down on the sofa, his feet hitting the ground at an awkward angle. He pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced nervously around the room.

"Ian, what if he hates me?" he asked reluctantly, his gaze lingering on a picture of Alex with the man who'd answered the door and a red haired woman. It had been taken on a beach and Alex looked to be nine or ten years old. Ian thumped his brother soundly on the shoulder in a friendly way.

"Nobody in our entire lives has hated you. You're John Rider, for God's sake. Everyone loves you" Ian replied, scratching the back of his head. Painful memories of John's countless girlfriends, buckets of friends and shining talent came flooding back to Ian, the remnants of living in your brother's shadow your entire life.

"Not true. Remember Mr. Gleeson? He didn't exactly like me. My left arse cheek hasn't felt the same since he got that loafer to it" John said, smiling tightly in an effort to calm himself. Ian recognized the comment as a distraction John had thrown up to keep himself occupied and let sleeping dogs lie by leaving it unchallenged.

"Oh, please. Even our mum and dad loved you more than me" Ian said, swallowing the bitter knot in his throat.

"What? No. That's not true Ian. They were our parents for God's sake. They loved both of us the same. No contest there" John replied, glancing at his brother incredulously. He felt a little bit bad really. He'd never really paid much attention to Ian until John had his own apartment and it was too late to sit down and talk about what happened in school.

"Yes it is. It's not a big deal John. I'd hate you but you're John. Yes, you can be a prick. But I don't think anyone can actually be mad at you once they've spoken about four words to you" Ian countered, smiling at his brother.

Ian had always been the slightly shy younger brother. He'd viewed John with the same mixture of reverence and envy as every other boy at school. John had been a legend. Captain of the football team. Captain of the rugby team. Athletics champ. A plus student. Everyones cool friend. All the girls would follow him around. Watch all his matches. His lunch table was always packed. He got away with being cheeky because the teacher's liked him too.

Ian had been the one who listened to the stories about his older brother. Tried to fill his shoes once he left. Sure, Ian had friends too. He made the football team. Might have captained it if he'd been serious enough about sport. Ian had preferred to just sit and talk with his circle of friends. He hadn't been artsy. Or sporty. He wasn't anything really. Average. Average marks, average looks. Just plain and simple average. Like a hundred other boys in the school.

"Which brings me back to my first point. You called me your baby brother again. Stop doing that. I can't stand it. You know I can't.I think you must do it on purpose" Ian said, scowling at his brother. John's eyes widened with innocent amusement and he raised his hands in a universal 'Don't-Shoot-Me' gesture.

"What? I hardly ever introduce you as that. ANd anyway, it's true, isn't it? I'll always think of you as my baby brother. Just deal with it" John replied. He felt a small smile tug at his lips and pushed his hair back anxiously. His lips tugged into a frown as his thoughts strolled back to Jamie, his eldest son.

Jamie had been one of John's most recurrent thoughts for a long time. At least John could keep a relative eye on Alex. But Jamie was in Europe somewhere, probably with Yassen. Yassen had been another one of John's thoughts as well. John wasn't sure where he stood with the Russian. He knew there was a reason behind everything Yassen did but he did feel jealous that while he had to fake his own death _twice _Yassen got to play father to his first born child.

It was all a bit unfair really.

The door of the living room opened and John took a deep breath, turning to face the boy and man standing there. _Whatever be the sentence of the court, I am prepared for it._

_-_

The hum of voices muffled by the door ceased as Alex reached out for the door handle. He pushed open the door gently, the wood giving a little resistance as it moved across the carpet. Wolf stood at his shoulder, even his breathing sounding suspicious.

-

_Christ, there's Alex. He's tall. Taller than I was. He has Helen's eyes. Sweet Jesus, he's looking at me. What on Earth am I supposed to say? My God, he even has my bloody hair. What's wrong with him? Why isn't he smiling? What has that prick Blunt done to my baby boy?_

_-_

Alex's eyes studied the man sitting on the sofa. His companion was more familiar looking, like a hazy recognition. But something about the taller man cativated Alex's gaze. He felt his mouth slacken in disbelief as his mind struggled to catch up. _He's me plus thirty years._

_-_

_What the hell am I supposed to say? Why's he looking at me like that? He looks sort of happy but hurt. Oh God, have I done something to hurt him? Well, I suppose abandoning him for ten years might fall under that category. What should I do? Why's he moving towards me. AHH! Invasion of personal space! Oh. He's. He's...hugging me?_

_-_

Alex felt two stiff, wooden arms wrap around his shoulders, giving him an awkward hug. Slowly he pulled back and coughed, feeling his face heat up in a blush. "Sorry for that. It's just..."

-

_He apologised to me? What have I done? _

"It's hard. I know. For what it's worth I'm very, very sorry".

John heard the distant voice and realised he was talking from the fact that his mouth was moving and sound was escaping from it.

The darker man was still standing in the doorway, a bemused expression on his face. He glanced from Alex to John to Ian and then back to Alex in a way that managed to convey perfectly the words 'What-the-hell-is-going-on!?'. Alex turned to the man and swallowed loudly.

"Wolf, these are my. My. My father and my uncle. I mean, my dad and my uncle" Alex informed him.

-

Wolf felt a strange stab of jealousy at the sight of Alex hugging John. He could remember each and every hug he'd received from Alex and they were all usually on birthdays or anniversary's and other important dates. Especially around the time of year that Alex and Jamie had been taken. For Alex to just hug the stranger unthinkingly, it was beyond unfair.

"Wolf, these are my. My. My father and my uncle. I mean, my dad and my uncle". Alex's voice forced it's way into Wolf's brain and suddenly none of the relationship stuff mattered anymore. All that mattered was the fact that the man was alive and he'd, he'd just cast away his son to save his own skin.

-

_He called me his dad. How long has it been since that's happened? Uh oh. What had Alex called that man again? Wolf. Why on Earth did Wolf have that look on his face. Why is he crossing towards me? Ow. That is definitely going to bruise._

_-_

Alex watched as his father figure of the last ten years punched his biological father across the face. John Rider stared blankly around the room before collapsing, his eyes shutting.

Alex smirked. It wasn't always that his life contained such drama. _Oh wait, teenage spy? Of course my home life should be like a soap opera._

-

Wolf clenched his fist, his knuckles thudding painfully. _There you have it John Rider. Consider yourself decked(1)._

**Okay. It wasn't as long as I wanted. And it didn't work out as well as I hoped. But I do hope you enjoyed. You've all been such patient waiters and I really hope you're still reading. I'd love a review. But don't feel that you have to. If you have something say, please say.**

**There you go. John and Ian Rider have finally been coaxed out of their cage and into the story. I'm hoping you won't mind a Jamie chapter next because he's just that littlest bit easier to write than Alex. I mean, the guy knows freakin' ballet! :) **

**(1) Just in case you're not familiar with the term, it is Irish slang for punched. Why Wolf used Irish slang is simple. He did a tour of Northern Ireland and some of it stuck. Okay? Yes, obscure but you know, I just love Ireland so much that I try and sneak it into all of my stories.**

**Just one question this time.**

**1- Should John's POV on things be given regularly? Do you think I bended him out of character (which I have a tendancy to do)? I just think he would be a little awkward with his children after so long.**


	7. Get Away From These Liars

**Another chapter. This was originally to be split in two parts but in the end it just gelled better in one. William Michaels will not appear at any other time in this story. And this chapter title comes from 'Open Your Eyes' by Snow Patrol. 'Tis a great song. So that's it. Please review.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will.**

* * *

_Diary of William Michaels, Psychoanalyst. 05/06/2001._

_Interviewed James Rider again today. Conducted a Rorschach test. At first he refused to look at the pictures. Then Hugh Bonnet pulled him from the room and "persuaded" him. The boy is barely sixteen but his face is covered in angry purple bruising. He's had stitches to his forehead since he came here and he walks as if he's concealing a limp. You have to look closely to see it but looking closer is my job. _

_His hand is wrapped in dirty bandaging and blood has dried and caked in his hair, lending the dark blond an even darker stain of red. He's covered in dirt. Hugh says it's because Rothman took away his shower privileges for non-compliance. He's kept in hand cuffs and ankle cuffs 24/7 and Hugh goes everywhere with him. This is because he tried to stab a nurse with a nail file during his physical._

_I've tried to convince Hugh to remove the handcuffs while he's with me but Hugh refuses. He says I don't know what I'm doing. So I have to make do with what I have. And what I have is a very curious case. _

_James Rider. Born 21/07/1985. Parents both deceased. Raised by Yassen Gregorovich and Daniil Federov. No homosexual relationship between the two, Hugh assures me. Has Mathew Port as a fairy godfather. Port spent millions on raising James. Romantically involved with Port's daughter, Ella. Unusual for them to have sexual relationship. Both very young. Speaks fluent English, French, Russian, German, Spanish and Catalan. Some knowledge of Japanese and Polish. Skilled in martial arts and boxing. Hugh guesses he's a black belt but not really sure. _

_His posture is very good. Has he been instructed in acrobatics or dancing of some sort? He doesn't slouch and sits unnervingly straight in his seat. _

_He's very intense about everything. I try and watch him all the time but he stares at me. It's strange. He doesn't seem to blink as much as anyone else. He's withdrawn completely. He doesn't speak unless asked a direct question and prompted by Hugh to answer. Even then he's monosyllabic. Is it some kind of defence mechanism? I have another appointment with him tomorrow. I'll broach the subject with him then._

* * *

06/06/2001

"Ah, James. And Hugh. Sit down. How are things? Would either of you like a drink?" William Michaels asked, bustling around his office. He retrieved the file he'd been studying from his desk and tucked it back into his filing cabinet. James's folder was already on his desk, waiting to be studied in relation to its subject.

Hugh propelled James into his seat, the cuffs clinking as the teenager sat down. Hugh himself took a seat beside the door and waited for William to begin. William glanced over at the Frenchman and smiled, nodding.

"James, could you please put your hands palm down on the table? Please, James? James?" William asked calmly, his voice mimicking the thousands of psychologists who used a placid tone daily. James frowned at William and did as he'd been asked, resting his palms on the desk.

"Good boy, James. Now, would you like to tell me what you did today? James?" William asked, his tone without inflection. James sat in his chair and just stared at William as if he'd lost his mind. Hugh leaned forward to cuff the teenager but William gestured for him to sit back, which he did with unease.

"Alright. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Now, I have some pictures I'd like you to look at. All you have to do is tell me what you see. Here. Why don't you try this one?" William said, sliding a Rorschach test across the table. James picked it up slowly and glanced down at it for a second before flicking it deftly back at William.

"Ink blots, that's what I see" James said, his tone dismissing any argument William could reply with. William shifted in his chair, his gaze flicking to Hugh, the ink blots and then back to James.

"But what do the blots look like, James? You must have seen Rorschach tests done before, James. You tell me-"

"The blots look like blots. You can ask me as many times as you like. They are blots. They will always be blots. If it makes you feel better to pretend that they're something more, go ahead. But don't expect me to indulge you" James bit out, each word a low snarl.

William frowned.

"Uh, okay. If that's, em, what you see then, uh, that's alright. Why don't you-"

"Excuse me, Mr. Michaels. I think I'd better take James to have a little, talk. If you don't mind?" Hugh interrupted, cutting the flustered doctor off. William nodded mutely and Hugh gripped James by the scruff and pulled him from his chair and out of the small office. William stared after them, struck dumb.

* * *

_06/06/2001_

_Another session with James today. He told me the Rorschach test was nothing but ink blots. And he's right. He's absolutely right. I've seen people squinting at those tests for years, trying to put meaning to them. He dismissed them straight away. There's nothing but a black stain._

_I'm looking at this the wrong way. Trying to find a meaning to go with him. But he's just...different. Perhaps he's ahead of the curve. Born before his time. What am I saying? Preliminary examinations suggest that he's not intellectually blessed. He's no genius. He's above average but nothing special. He's well trained in the practicals. His maths, history and science are good. But his intelligence seems to be off paper. Physical activities._

_He can reason well. Tactically, he's gifted. He can project the image of being exceptionally intelligent and gifted. He's no scholar, though. His aural languages are better than his written. His spelling is atrocious. Possible dyslexia? Must investigate. I'd actually guess that his brother, Alexander, is more academic. But then again, James has led a different life from Alexander. From anyone I've ever encountered. If I had been raised under similar circumstances, would I be different?_

_This doesn't matter. I have another appointment with James tomorrow. I'm actually looking forward to it. What will I learn? Who knows. It definitely won't be boring though. Was surprised when James picked up Rorschach test without any violence needed to persuade him. Perhaps he's finally grasped the severity of his situation. I hope so._

_He'll most likely be handed over to Marc Bonnet for Basic Training in two or three days and I'll lose him for two whole months. I predict he'll do well here, if Rothman can get him to stop clamming shut everything else. He's being kept in isolation still, in one of the cells in the basement. Hopefully I'll be able to arrange another physical check up for him soon. God knows he could use it._

* * *

07/06/2001

"James, you know what? Today I'd like to try something different. Let's talk. Just talk. I have a few questions I have to ask you and I'll write down your answers but other than that we can talk about anything you want to talk about. So, James, what do you want to talk about?"

"James?"

"James, could you please tell me what you want to talk about?"

_Unwilling to answer. Subject glances at Hugh, as if he expects to be hit. Seems on edge today. Less settled. Even more intense. Unreadable as usual. Perspiring heavily. Eyes hazier than usual. Has he been drugged? Will question Hugh later._

"I don't like you"

_Misplaced anger. Common in adolescent boys. Not unknown to place anger into one particular person or object. In this case, me. Possible resentment of Scorpia, embodied by me. Again, subject appears to have been drugged. Perspiring heavily now and squirming. Truth serum?_

"O-kay. Can you explain, uh, why you don't like me?"

"Thirty something. Obviously never killed anyone. Sit in your office, demanding respect you haven't earned or deserved. Your hands are smooth. You've never done any kind of manual labour. You see my palms? They're rough, callused. I'm half your age and I've done things you wouldn't even dream about in your worst nightmares"

_Observational skills obviously intact. Is this a trap? Why the sudden change in tactics? Often a shrug is the most response I can expect to receive. I'm intrigued. Will proceed gently. Don't want him clamming up again._

"And why are your plams rough, James? Are these things that you've done bad things? Do you sometimes have nightmares because of them?"

"No. I don't get nightmares. You see, my palms are rough because of Yassen. He used to make me dig these holes in the snow. He'd call them graves. Have you ever met Yassen? He's not a very pleasant man. He'd make me dig and dig until I would throw up with exhaustion. The shovel was longer than me and I would cry and cry and he'd kick snow back in, telling me he was going to bury me and leave me to die. He used to beat me and starve me, too. Have you ever had someone crucify you, Mr. Michaels?-

_-First reference to me using my name. _

"He used long, rusty nails and a big nasty hammer. There was blood everywhere. And I could feel every single thump. He put five in my right hand and then I passed out. He waited until I woke up to pull them out again. That's what I get for trying to run away"

_Subject holds up right hand and shows me wide, angry red gouges. Story consistent with wounds. Must mention to doctor. Subject's pain threshold must be unusually high. Had heard stories about Gregorovich but none like this. Was general understanding that he refused to harm children._

"And the bad things you've done? Do you want to talk about those?"

"Am I right about you? You've never fired a gun, have you?"

_Classic deflection. Doesn't want to talk about things he's done. Wants to keep the attention focused off himself. _

"No, I have never fired a gun. I have some basic combat training but I was never any good at it. What about you, James? You've fired guns, haven't you? At people? Would you tell me about the guns you've fired please, James?"

"I'm sorry William, but I'm going to have to finish this up now. Julia wants a, uh, word with James. So we'd better go. I'm sure you can continue this tomorrow"

_Hugh pulls subject up and they move to leave the room. Subject stumbles at the door and turns. Smiles at me. Gives me a slow wink._

"By the way, everything I just told you is bullshit. You actually think Yassen would try anything like that? You're an idiot. And I really, really don't like you"

_Will write again tomorrow._

* * *

**Part 2**

The icy water rushed into Jamie's mouth, choking him, making him reel. He felt the strong arms haul him roughly out of the basin again and dump him on the floor while he sputtered desperately for air. He curled into a ball reflexively and tried to pull himself out of reach of the vice like fingers that hauled him to his feet and pulled him from the room.

He'd been drowning for an hour.

He was dumped into a new room, painting blindingly white. The tiles were cold under him and he tried to list the sections of the brain to steady himself. He couldn't think of even one. All he could think of was the icy touch below him. Now he could feel an arm. The throbbing pain in his hand. The water dripping from his hair and splashing to floor with a tiny plip. The pain was unwavering, unfaltering. There was no relief from the fiery burn.

People came in then. Jamie was kicked in the stomach and the head and then pulled up and hand cuffed to a chair. He tried to struggle but he hadn't eaten in days and his head hurt and his wrists were on fire. He received a blow to head from the end of a rifle and that ended any futile resistance he could offer.

"James. This is a pleasure. It's been a while. A week, in fact, since we talked last. And I have a few questions for you. Your psych results are distressing. You're a very un co-operative little boy" a familiar voice wafted through the pain. Jamie considered briefly why he was holding back tears and then remembered that when Yassen came for him he'd never hear the end of it if he'd cried in front of Julia Rothman.

"Not a question" Jamie croaked, his voice hoarse. He chuckled at his own wit, his throat aching. Someone slapped him once. Twice. Everything was very distant and foggy. He wondered if he was going to die. Would Yassen find his corpse? Or would it be Daniil who stumbled across him, dead?

"That's enough. He's on the brink of unconciousness. James, can you hear me?" she asked.

He nodded, knowing he was going to die if he didn't get food and medical attention soon. He was no longer sick but they'd given him some kind of drug and he felt feverish again. Maybe they'd already poisoned him and were waiting for him to die? Time seemed irrelevant. He couldn't measure things in minutes. How could it ever be half past exhaustion? Or a quarter to pain?

"Alright, good. We found a piece of paper on you when we found you in the airport. It's a letter and it's been ripped. It reads as follows: My Dear Son, Jamie. If you are reading this I'll have found you by now and you'll have many questions for me. You'll be angry and upset and hurt but you have to know before you act that I love you very, very much.

This does not excuse my absence for the past ten years and I can only offer my sincerest apology as compensation. I've never been very lyrical and I suppose this letter isn't going to make much difference to you. But I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. The Prodigal Son. I've never really appreciate the forgiving father. He's not teaching his son a lesson by welcoming him back with open arms. And now, ironically, I am the prodigal and I can only throw myself on your mercy. Even if you hate me, I hope you'll allow me the small mercy of loving you.

I'm selfish and awful but you are my son and I know that I have to come for you to get help in my most difficult mssion. It will be a family effort and I intend to enlist all the help I can get. It's taken me a long time to write this, I know. Ten years to grieve. I lost my wife. My sons. I tried to get both of you back. But I had no MI6 backing. They turned on me. Tried to kill me. I've been on the run with your uncle Ian for so long now.

I need to meet you, face to face. We have to talk. So

And that's where the letter ends. Did John Rider give you contact details?"

She set the piece of paper on the table and Jamie tried to shake his head, to deny ever reading it. But someone grabbed the back of his head and slammed him face down into the table. He heard the loud snap, saw vivid crimson blood spurt onto the table. One of the corners of the paper was stained and soaked. The colour was shocking. Enough to make Jamie freeze and stare.

"I'll ask you again. Did John Rider, your father, give you any contact details? An e-mail? A phone number? You can tell me now and things will be better for you. Or I can have you tortured and then thrown head first into basic training. So?"

Jamie looked up at her dumbly, uncomprehendingly. His vision was foggy now and he wondered if that bang had done it. Was he dying now? He had questions now, so many questions. He couldn't even see her face now. What was happening? What had they given him?

"Alright. FINE! THAT'S WHAT YOU CHOOSE!? Scissors, now" she snapped. His shoulders were grabbed. He was being held down against the table. And now something was cropping his hair. Rusty bladed scissors pulling every hair out with a shot of pain and some skin. It was hell, fiery hell. Tufts of darkening blond hair fell on the table top and Jamie exhaled, blowing one across the surface of the table.

"Now. Bring him back to his cell. And then in the morning he is going to start basic training with Marc and I don't give a damn what Zeljan Kurst has to say about it! You tell William Michaels that his psycho bullshit doesn't fly with me and James is no longer his concern. And for the love of God, am I talking to myself!? FIND JOHN RIDER! I want him dead before the next board meeting. You're all dismissed. Hugh, get this creature out of here!"

Jamie felt himself being dragged again but he decided it didn't matter anymore. He was going to die if Yassen didn't come soon. The letter was just a blip. He was never going to speak to his father, let alone meet him. Yassen would come for him and he would go home and things would be the same. And he would be able to forget what he'd seen. The blood soaked page, the blondish hairs and the drowning phantoms haunting him while he gasped for breath.

He was dying. He was definitely dying. That was, if he wasn't already dead.

* * *

**Fin. Please review.**


	8. Leave Me Here On My Own

**_Disclaimer: I do not now nor ever will own the Alex Rider series. Happy?_**

**_Okay. We're back with Alex, finally. And I've left a little hanger in there but don't despair! I'm gonna update again so soon you won't even notice the gap. Enjoy and be sure to read the author's note at the end. Chapter title from 'In My Place'- 'Coldplay'. Which is a great song for Ella in this chapter._**

* * *

When John came round, he quickly realized three things.

Alex was now in a serious huff. In fact, he'd barricaded himself in his room and begun thrown things around. Heavy things. A couple of hippos from the sound of it. He'd cursed profusely through the door at Wolf and his American partner, which had upset the fierce, red-haired woman. The worst part was John had a nasty feeling she blamed him. She'd been throwing him filthies since he'd blinked back into reality.

Ian had vanished into thin air at the worst possible time. He slouched off somewhere, apparently claiming to have forgotten his cigarettes. John knew for a fact he didn't smoke. So the question wasn't really where he'd gone. It was what in the name of mother and child he'd abandoned his brother for? John figured it was a just revenge for all the 'baby brother' introductions he'd delivered throughout their lifetime.

The third was that his head felt like a baby elephant had taken a nap on it, his shoes were missing, the stitches on his chest had split open for the fourth time in two days, he was wearing odd socks when he was sure he'd put on a matching pair that morning, he was covered in blood from his swelling nose, he felt very sick, his face ached and, somewhat bizarrely, he had a feeling something momentous had happened while he'd been out cold. And he felt every single one of his forty four years.

Why did the strangest things happen to him when he was unconscious?

"Sorry about the whole punch in the face thing, mate. Look, d'you want me to get you frozen peas or something? And you might want to, uh, get something done for your nose. It looks sort of, off" Wolf said, disappearing after awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

The American girl stooped beside John, where he lay propped on the sofa. She had a frown painted on her face and anger seeped from her very pores but she seemed resigned to hating him silently.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, I'm very sor-"

"Oh, you've done more than upset me! You asshole! I can't believe anyone could be such a bonehead! You fucked off and left your children when you could have stayed! You just shed them like the bastard that you are! And then, you waltz back in to Alex's life, after ten bloody years and expect him to just worship the ground you walk on, you stupid, moronic, git! You come and upset him like that! At least when you were dead, you hadn't left him by fucking choice!" she snapped, tilting his face so that she could get a better look at his nose.

For several minutes, everything was quiet. The only thing that disrupted complete silence was the occasional bang or crash from Alex's room. This was usually accompanied by a wince from the American. Wolf's muttered curses in the kitchen helped fill the huge void.

John wished Ian hadn't done a bunk at the first opportunity. He probably had good reason. Still, it was unfair that John had to try on his own to fix things. Totally unfair. In fact, Ian was going to owe him big time. Bigger than any other time he'd owed him before. He couldn't help wondering what it was that had sent his brother away so quickly. They were still good for a few more days. MI5 were hunting for them in Cairo. Scorpia in Brazil. They had time.

"It's broken. But it looks like a clean split. I'll get Wolf to drive you to the hos-"

Jack's voice broke into John's reverie and he reached up, brushinghis fingers against his nose. Hmmm. It felt tender. With one quick jerk, he snapped it sharply to the side. With a loud click the bones realigned neatly. It would probably swell and feel very sore for a few days but hopefully, John would avoid hospital.

The American made a disgusted face and narrowed her eyes. Wolf appeared in the doorway and tossed a bag of frozen peas that John caught effortlessly. _Still got the old magic _he thought smugly. All Riders had excellent reflexes.

"Can I just ask what the hell happened to my shoes?" John asked, eying the socks casually adorning his feet suspiciously.

Wolf grinned and the American sniffed angrily before stalking out of the room. Wolf collapsed onto the sofa beside John and smiled apologetically. John accepted the silent gesture and signalled half heartedly at the door of the living room.

"Where's Alex?" he asked gently, probing the situation delicately.

"He's...in...his...room" Wolf replied, each word punctuated by a clatter louder than it should have been.

"I thought he'd be just the tiniest bit pleased to see me. I guess I sort of misjudged the emotions of a fourteen year old boy" John said, swallowing his pride. He had no idea what he was doing. He'd been so caught up in his own life and anger and hatred that he hadn't even stopped to consider that it might upset Alex to see him.

"Wouldn't blame you. Look, again, I'm sorry about decking you. I just, well, I was a little angry. But I guess we just got off on the wrong foot. My name's James. James Byrne. But everyone calls me Wolf. And my charming fiance, Jack" Wolf said awkwardly, removing his hand from his pocket to offer it to John.

"Wolf? Are you army or something?" John asked, taking the pro-offered limb and shaking it solidly.

"Yeah. SAS. You a military man yourself or d'you go straight to MI6?" Wolf asked, socking his hand back into his pocket. A grin slithered onto his face at the idea that he was now on converstation topics he found understandable.

"I went into 2 Para when I finished Uni. Got the invitation letter on my birthday. I was thrilled. I actually planned to go with the SAS once I got my epaulets. But MI6 approached me and I couldn't say no, could I?" John said, his gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling.

"You do any tours or just training?" Wolf asked suspiciously.

"Of course. Falklands. Northern Ireland. Lebanon. Even spent a month on the Russian border. You see much combat?" John replied with a question, shifting slightly in his seat. He listened for another clash from Alex's room but none came. Either he'd calmed down or he'd run out of things to throw that made obscene amounts noise.

"Yeah. Did two tours of Afghanistan. Iraq. Trained in Brecon Beacons. Security for the PM for a few weeks. Raids. That sort of stuff" Wolf replied, sitting down beside John on the sofa. There was a sort of lean-to familiarity between the pair that only soldiers seemed to be able to develop after two minutes of talking.

"Catch any bullets?" John asked, shifting himself across a cushion to give Wolf some more space. There was the clatter he'd been listening for.

"Of course. Two in my leg and one in my chest. Perforated an eardrum too. Grenade went off right beside my head. Not something I'd like to repeat" Wolf chuckled. From nowhere he offered John a can of Budweiser and smiled. John took it, nodding his thanks. He decided it was best not to tell Wolf that he was a recovering alcoholic. He'd do the polite thing and just ignore the can.

"James Michael Byrne, I told you to get your big head out that door and down to the corner shop twenty minutes ago! We need tea bags, toilet roll and milk. Go on! Honestly, my mother was right when she told me that-"

Jack's voice trailed off as she bustled around the apartment and Wolf got to his feet and winked at John.

"Doesn't do to give the missus any bother. I'll be back in a bit. You can stick on the telly if you want" Wolf said, stepping into a pair of trainers. He wandered out of the room and John eyed the strange socks again, tilting his head to one side. That was a real puzzle. He scanned the room and located his shoes beside the radiator, heaving himself up to put them back on. He cursed loudly at the sight of blood seeping through his shirt and grunted, sitting back down again.

"What's wrong with you?"

John looked up, startled. Alex had snuck up on him, his face more childlike and innocent than it had been before. He didn't look furious anymore. John patted the sofa cushion beside him and Alex ignored it, perching pointedly on the armchair furthest from the sofa. John sighed. He hated the wary, suspicious look he'd brought into Alex's eyes.

"I was shot not long ago. The bullet missed my lung by a fraction of an inch. I just about survived" John told him, scratching the back of his neck, awkward at discussing the wound. Alex stared at the blood and frowned, getting up again.

"I'll get you a towel" he said. John flapped his hand, gesturing for him to sit down again. After a minute of consideration, Alex did.

"Don't. Your... Jack is already pissed off enough with me. I don't need to destroy a towel. Thanks for the offer, though. So...Alex...Have you spoken with Jamie since...since he was taken?" John asked, even more uncomfortable. Alex glanced over sharply, his eyes wide and worried.

"Jamie wasn't taken. He left with Yassen Gregorovich" he replied, stilling in his chair. John's breath wheezed out of him. The truth always hit him hard in the chest. It hurt even more coming from Alex than it did from Ian. It drove away any hope John could muster, that Yassen had kidnapped Jamie. He swallowed, the taste of bile creeping up his throat, and forced a smile at Alex.

"Yes. But have you had any contact with him? It's just that I've been waiting for him to call me a while now. He's a bit hard to get in touch with, y'know? Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I just wanted to ask if you'd spoken with him but I suppose not. Can I ask you though, why am I wearing odd socks?" John said, running a hand backwards through his hair. The blood was slowing now.

"Oh. Oh. Yeah. Jack doesn't like people wearing shoes inside and your socks had a hole in them so she did a bit of covert action" Alex said, his lips twitching. John chuckled at the motherly touch and scanned his son properly for the first time.

He was tall. And good looking. Alex looked like him. But he had Helen's eyes. It hurt to look at them. Alex looked happy and loved and well-cared for, three adjectives John couldn't use to describe himself. Happy if you didn't take into account his eyes. They were older. Serious. His hair was clean and shiny, lighter than John's. It was longer than Jamie's hair, hanging over Alex's eyes in bangs. Jamie didn't have bangs. He pushed his fringe up with gel, his hair close cropped like...Yassen's. _Stop thinking about him. You're with Alex!_ John wondered dimly if Alex had a girlfriend.

"Right. Okay. I just wondered. Um... Alex, I have a huge favour to ask of you. But first, I'd like to tell you a little story..."

* * *

  
Ella held her knees to her chest, whimpering quietly. The drip in her arm was painful, uncomfortable, intrusive. She scratched her nose absently and stared out the glass panelling to where her brother and sister hugged on the sofa. They looked strange, without their hair.

"Miss you Els. Dad's...not so good" Max said, his voice distorted by the glass. Ella whimpered again and reached up to her own hair. A few clumps came away at her touch and she started to cry again. _What the hell will Jamie say when he sees that I've gone bald before him!?_

Ella couldn't even speak. Her throat was dry and scratchy. Her hair was an untidy, gluey mess. She felt horrible. She wanted Jamie. Godamn him! Why was he never there for her!? She needed him now! She wondered if Yassen had found him. Probably. Yassen would find an individual needle in a stack of needles. Daniil had visited her at some stage, she thought. She wasn't too sure though.

She curled further into a ball and whimpered again. In the height of her fever she reached out, positive Jamie was beside her. Smirking. Snickering. She found herself replaying the good moments. Ice skating in Moscow. Snorkeling in Australia. Christmas in Paris. The water parks in Spain. Horse riding. Swimming. Sun bathing. Surfing. Dancing at one of Julia Rothman's mandatory-attendance parties.

He made the bad things sweeter. Being forced to go to stupid black tie parties was torture but with his arms around her, leading her expertly in a dance, whispering how beautiful she looked in her ear, everyone looking at them; it was perfect. He'd fought for her in clubs when other boys got grabby. He'd cleaned her up after a high. He never judged her.

And the bad. Fighting on the Eiffel Tower. Arguing in Sydney. Slapping him in Moscow. The night he left her for his 'mission'. The club where he bought another girl a drink. The time he went psycho just because another guy bought her a drink. Cheating on him, again and again because she was lonely and felt scorned. The guilt when he'd come back. She wondered vacantly if she hated him.

It would be easier. Easier. She listened as the bleeping machines wired to her slowed. And slowed. And slooooooooowed. And. Stopped?

* * *

**_OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhh. Do you all hate Ella? I'm not really sure about her myself._**

**_I have three big things to tell you._**

**_-Firstly, I know exactly what's going to happen from now on. I just have to get out the chapters presentably. And the next story has begun already. So far it's untitled but I can tell you it will be set in the future and will contain some new characters. Also, it will most likely be the last Alex-Jamie story I write. So it'll probably be a trilogy, peoples._**

**_-Secondly, I have bad news. If you are reading any of my other stories please be aware of these deletions: Untitled for now, any suggestions?- Top Of The Pile To The Bottom Of The Heap- Whatever It Takes and Southern Boy. That's it for now. _**

**_-Thirdly, the story between Spider's Web and Knife's Edge is going to be up soon. I can tell you it will be called 'Snapshot'. And seriously, I'd love it if you'd read it. _**

**_That's it for now. Thanks for reading and, as always, reviews are loved._**


	9. The Game Called 'Go Insane'

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. The chapter title comes from 'Celebration of The Lzard' by The Doors. Great band. Great song. **

**Hope lots of people read this and review and make me smile 'cause I'm doing the auld exams at the mo. Ugh. Higher Level Irish and Maths. Nasty stuff. Please make my day.**

* * *

The lights are on. Apart from the little blue mat there's nothing in this cold grey room. Just grey walls to look at. It's the same size as Yassen's bathroom in Estrov.

Nothing.

No windows. Only grey walls and the acrid stench of blood and heat and dust and sweat that makes him gag.

They drag him out - they throw him back. He curls up in a ball and tries not to vomit. He's got nothing to vomit with. The lights drum down on him and he feels so... bad. He has nothing in here to arm himself with. The chains bite into his wrists and ankles so he can't fight. When they come, he can't do anything but pray it ends.

God. The lights burn a bright blaze into his eyes, drilling into his groggy brain when he tries to shut them out. God. Save me. Help me. Why don't the bulbs ever break? Even for a minute so he can just... just... survive. That's all he wants to do. Is survive. He doesn't care about anything else. He knows he's slowly going crazy. Slowly. He loses touch with reality for minutes on end sometimes. Yassen visits him and sneers at how weak he is.

Daniil smiles when the guards pile in, laughing with them.

Ella beats him with them. Their fists become hers.

Now he's staring at the grey walls again. Breathing in his own smell, terrified. Every small noise sends him shaking. Trembling. The sound of boots on the corridor. It's been so long since he's spoken to anyone. His only human interaction is the beatings. And the torture. And...

The other things they do.

The walls seem to contract and wobble, the boundaries of reality stretching. Not now.

He can't see any of them now.

He wants to be on his own.

Fo how long this time? If he can close his brain down for a bit, maybe he can forget? Maybe if they stay away. Maybe if the lights break. Maybe he can get some sleep. Maybe a long, timeless sleep instead of the half-hour here and there before another bitter wake up.

Perhaps he can die.

No! He has to survive. That last inch of himself must survive, no matter how difficult a feat it is. He has to survive. God, please. That's all that matters. He needs to survive, please God. Please. It's the only thing he lives for.

He has to see snow again. Has to let Daniil know just how funny he is. Has to show Yassen just how much he... needs him. Has to tell Ella how he's wrong. Has to talk with Alex and learn about him from him. Has to swim again. Has to read something. Anything. Has to watch another movie. Has to reply to John. To his...

To his...

To his father.

He turns over on the mat to lie on his back, listening to his beating heart. Vaguely aware of wondering if he's got the energy to pull himself to together and live. Can he really be bothered?

Now is.

Now is.

Now is.

Now is the third day in a row that they've beaten him awake and then back into unconciousness.

He'll never sleep again, why try?

He's tried everything to stop the lights. He's pulled the mat over his head. Burying his face in his arms.

Nothing works.

His face is in the wall.

Seeing only his own hands over his own eyes.

Red fingers on fingers.

Smelling of sweat.

Footsteps on the corridor send him shaking again. The harsh rasp of desert boots send him shying away from the door, trembling even though he knows he shouldn't. He's just weak, that's all. Don't pause at my door. Please God.

The door grates open and the fists start up and he vomits again. And again. And again.

He's not even sure what day it is anymore...

* * *

They unlock the door and laugh down at him as he shies away from them subconciously. One of them, a man with wide, freckly hands, grins sadistically as he unhooks the heavy chains anchoring him to the floor and slaps on the hand cuffs. He tightens them cruelly, just because he can.

Jamie's ankles are bound even tighter and chained to his waist to stop any kind of real movement. They place a bag over his head that chokes off all of his senses and he wants to scream but it won't come out.

Another click. They drag him out of his cell and along the cold floor, scraping his bloody legs painfully. He clenches his teeth. He's not going to cry out.

They dump him in a room close by and remove the bag more forcefully than necessary. It's a smaller room with a black table and dimmer lights. Three chairs. It's so warm in the tiny room, as if the heat is all choked up inside. In the far corner he can just make out the gloomy outline of a slanting plank behind him, an old cloth slung on top. The tap on the wall drips ominously, the only sound in the room.

They rip off the shackles painfully and tear off his crumpled, filthy t-shirt and navy trousers, stripping him naked. He remembers when he was given them, they were grimy but a lot cleaner. The days are suddenly clear again and he remembers thinking basic training would have something to do with combat and guns. He wishes suddenly that Yassen had taught him about surviving torture.

They bundle him into one of the plastic chairs and grab his hair, tugging his head, forcing him to look across at the dark haired man. He's wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled back and he grins at Jamie. The teenager tries to smother his terror and project calm. The man, Marc Bonnet, reaches across and punches him in the jaw, just for the hell of it.

"James. Feel like talking yet?" he asks. Jamie tries to shake his head but someone forces it down, colliding with the table with a messy cracking sound. Blood spurts out and drops onto the table and he wants more than anything to make it stop. His mind is so scrambled his words come out slowly and exaggerated.

"Just to tell you to fuck off" he shudders. He wants to stop the pain but his mouth won't let him. His body needs relief but he can't stop his brain defying him. He remembers so many past conversations just like this one. Bonnet sneers and clicks. Something slugs him twice and he collapses forward onto the table. He stares up at the man, his vision wavering for a minute, everything resounding twice around his head.

"Well that's just fine. You've been in basic training for twenty days now. It's supposed to end in about eleven, maybe twelve more. But I think we'll keep you back a little longer. It's been so long, Yassen's given up on finding you. I've sent people to his house tonight. Tonight he's going to die, James. And no-one, no-one at all, is going to come for you" Bonnet bares his teeth nastily and Jamie tries to spit at him but all that comes out is blood. They've broken his jaw.

"Or maybe daddy John will swoop in for his little bastard? I know that's what you're thinking. Let's put him to sleep boys. Rack him up" he says.

Something nestles in his stomach, a weight of panic perhaps, as they grab him roughly from the chair. They drag him over to the plank, straightening it with a kick. They lift him up by both ends and hold him down, throwing the built-in straps over his body to hold down his forehead, chest and feet with a vice like grip.

They tip the plank back and he's thrown upside down with a sickening thump. He can feel blood rushing to his head to pool, bare feet in the air.

"Last chance, James. Tell us everything and it'll stop" Bonnet says, standing over him, holding his ankles.

He shakes his head, eyes closed and their hands press down on his shoulders. He hears running water and a cloth lands on his face, more hands holding it down. He can smell the stale odour of the cloth and as his nostrils flare a trickle of water flows through it and down his nose and mouth.

He coughs and splutter, gags and suck the cloth into his nose and mouth, which suffocates him. He struggles and his hands jerk, his whole body racking with shuddering trembles to get away from the straps and he tries to vomit. He groans and it comes out as a slur. Rough hands clamp him down more. Yassen's ghostly face swims before his exhausted mind as water floods his face.

_Help me. Help me. Don't let them kill me._

He tries to breath but he can't. Spitting. Gurgling the pouring water. His neck goes rigid with effort to breathe- effort to cough. A slush of the water hits his bloody ears, sending a siren of pain wailing in his head. His jaw is agony and he knows that the blood must be mixing with the water, tainting it scarlet.

"His pain threshold is incredibly high. Remarkable. Look. He's lasted two minutes already. The last Stiletto one we got hold of did a minute and a half and we thought he was tough".

Still the water comes. Drowning him in slow motion. Choking. Suffocating. His lungs are swelling, bursting. They force his neck to go limp and he swallows and swallows more and more water. He's going to survive. They won't let him die. They won't...

"Oh shit. Marc! He's spitting it back up. Marc, his pulse is slowing. We need to..."

* * *

"Yassen. You've got to stop sitting by the phone, mate. He's not calling. He can't" Daniil wandered into the hall, scratching a hand through his dishevelled hair. His eyes were bleary and full of sympathy as he leaned against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. He yawned and stretched, trying futilely to roll the kinks out of his shoulders.

"I know. I'm waiting for a contact in Scorpia to ring back. You know him. David Gills. He works with their tech squad. He promised he'd call me back as soon as he heard how Jamie was doing" Yassen said flatly. Daniil studied his friend, frowning. Yassen looked like microwavable shit. The corners of his lips turned down slightly in a subconcious frown. He hadn't shaved, stubble visible on his face for the first time in years. He had huge dark circles under eyes that looked lost. He bunched both of his fists but other than that remained perfectly still beside the phone.

"When'd you call him?" Daniil inquired, tilting back his neck and closing his eyes. He wanted to sleep but he couldn't.

"Thirty six hours, twenty eight minutes ago. I'm sure he'll get back to me soon" Yassen replied stoicly, not bothering to glance up.

"..."

The steady sound of his breathing was all that could be heard in the hall as Daniil tensed. He wondered absently how Yassen could keep his temper in check. It was a concious struggle for Daniil not to be out, hunting for any Scorpia personnel who might know anything. The fact that no amount of violence would bring Jamie home frustrated him greatly.

"Don't start. I already know, alright? What about Matthew? Did you see him yet? He won't let me take a team to get Jamie. He won't even tell me where they're keeping him. I don't even know where they have him, Daniil. I shouldn't be like this. It's a weakness. But..." Yassen trailed off, rubbing an eye blearily.

"I know. Last night, I dreamt he was still little. Y'know? When he was only seven, maybe eight. I really-"

"Don't. The last thing I need are feelings right now. I want, right now, to leave everything I have. Give up everything I've worked to gain in Stiletto. But I can't leave. We'd never be able to get him on our own. It's what Rothman wants, us to charge at her. I won't give her that. It would be pointless. Besides-"

"We don't even know where he is" Daniil finished.

"Exactly. All we can do right now is follow up on leads. I'm flying to Madrid tomorrow to have a little 'conversation' with certain people. You should hold down the fort here. Make sure nothing gets too badly screwed up and-"

The phone rang loudly, startling both of the Russians. Daniil got to his feet and paced the hall twice, anxiously.

"Hello? Yes. Max? What's wrong?" Yassen said, climbing to his feet aswell. Daniil sighed, disappointed. He'd been hoping that Gills would call back. No such luck. He wandered into the living room and flicked on the television, sinking onto the sofa to watch the news.

"I'm sorry, Yassen. I don't know. Ella told me to get you on the phone and I didn't know if you were still in Estrov or... Have you heard anything about Jamie?" Max's voice crackled down the line, sounding flustered and worried. Yassen jogged up the stairs and into his room, closing the door. He preferred to take calls in complete privacy.

"No, nothing. It's like he's vanished off the face of the earth. Anyway, what is it Ella wanted?" Yassen replied flatly, lying down on his bed. He stretched slowly, relishing the hollow relief this distraction gives him.

"I'll put her on. She wouldn't tell me. But I think it's bad. She won't talk to me. She just sits in her bed and crys, Yassen. She won't stop. I don't know what to do" Max confessed, his voice wavering slightly. Yassen frowned at that.

Max wasn't as hard as Ella or Matthew. More his mother than anything else. He was friendly with Jamie but not the same kind of person. More pliable. Less intense. He was slightly soft, having been kept well away from his father's business. But he didn't get upset very easily. If he thought it was bad, it probably was.

"Put her on. Look after Emma Jane, alright? Let me deal with this" Yassen said quietly. Max mumbled a thank you and Yassen listened to the fumbling noises over the phone as the handset was passed to someone, presumably Ella. He blinked twice before rolling on his side and snagging a proplus tablet from his bedside locker, dry swallowing it. He needed to be awake. When he slept, nightmares sniffed him out.

"Yassen?" Ella's voice was jagged and empty of anything but misery and perhaps fury.

"Yes?"

"I'm pregnant and it's Jamie's"

Yassen realised he was going to need more proplus tablets.

* * *

**Proplus tablets are stay awake pills, just in case you didn't know.**

**If the Yassen bit seems a little dragged, it's because I wrote the dialogue first at 2 A.M and then filled in the descriptions and stuff. **

**Rightey oh. There's the Jamie chapter I've been looking to get out for a while.**


	10. Your Inside Is Out, Your Outside Is In

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series. Chapter title: Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey- The Beatles.**

* * *

"Alex, I want to make things right with you and your... brother. In fact, I've wanted to make things right with both of you, my two sons, for quite some time now. You see, I was so young when-"

"Don't call him my brother." Alex tensed, biting words bitterly through clenched teeth. Jack blinked, surprised at the teenager's sudden hostility, even if it was warranted. Alex wasn't a vicious, angry kind of kid. He wasn't the type to hold a grudge. "I don't want anything from you. You left me when I was four years old without a single word. No phone call, no letter. I'm sorry but at this point in time, there's nothing you can do to... 'make things right'."

"Alex, I was young. I was just a kid, barely more than a child when I married your mother. I married her when I was just twenty five years old. I was eleven years older than you are now and I was stupid and reckless and my priorities were... I wasn't ready for it but I... Your mother was expecting, Alex. She was pregnant with twins and I couldn't just leave her. So I married her and she tried to pretend she was happy, seeing me coming and going at all hours. I was on autopilot with her. My job was my life, not her. She was just... She loved me, Alex. Loved me with everything she had and I had nothing to give her but pain. She miscarried our children and she.... wasn't well."

Alex shifted slightly in his armchair, sliding further back into his cushion, frowning. Jack hovered, uncertain, in the doorway. She wasn't entirely convinced about whether she should stay or go.

"For a long time afterwards, she was anxious. Paranoid. She wasn't really in touch with the world. She kept checking things over and over and she got very upset if anything changed. We had a nursery in our house and she wouldn't let me in when I came home. She kept... blaming me, always constantly rambling at me like the twins had died because of me. I just worked harder and harder and left her alone in the house for weeks on end. Eventually, she got so bad that she had to get help. I came home one weekend and she was standing on the railing of the balcony, holding the twins stuffed animals but covered in blood. She'd tried to slit her wrists and when she missed the vein she decided to jump."

John ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his nose quickly, collecting his thoughts.

"She fell three floors, broke both of her legs and I finally committed her to a psychiatric hospital, to get her better again. She spent a year there, going through all kinds of therapies and medications with slow, gradual progress. I'd visit but sometimes she wouldn't see me and other times she'd beg me to stay with her because she was lonely and scared and upset. I mostly made it through that year like a zombie. Just driving from the Royal & General to her hospital in Marlow and back to our house again. I drank a lot. I was unfaithful. Your uncle tried to help but he didn't understand, not really. Your mother, she did get better, eventually. She was still anxious and obsessive about different things but for a while, things with us got better."

Jack wandered over to sit on the arm of Alex's chair, resting an arm on his shoulder gently. He didn't move. His gaze remained fixed on John's face, flat and emotionless.

"It was good to have her back. Made me happy. We moved though, mostly to get away from that nursery and our neighbours. She couldn't sleep with that room crammed full of baby things. I cut back a little at work and we made a go at it for a while. I used to bring her flowers and she'd make dinner every single night without fail. We got used to some kind of normality but it was never going to last. My boss, he sat me down one day and gave me a choice. I'd been working office hours for weeks and he'd let me, just so that he had something to hang over my head. He told me that it was either settle with a desk job or take a mission he had me pencilled in for. We talked about it. She didn't try and convince me because she knew that there was no way in hell I was ever going to choose menial paperwork over my job, the job that I loved."

John felt a little twinge as he said it aloud for the first time, voiced honestly his own selfish destruction. It was the first time that he'd ever really admitted what he knew.

"They stuck in for deep cover. I spent months checking and re-checking my briefings. For the purposes of a long assignment, we decided it was best to be as honest as possible with my background. I got to keep my name. If they ever let you keep your name, Alex, that's when you're in trouble. That's when they don't expect you to come back. I was twenty seven years old when I 'murdered' a man called Ed Savitt in a bar. It was some wonderful theatrics, if you ask me. I spent nine months wrapped up in legal proceedings before they sent me to prison. I was in Full Sutton for a year. It was... difficult. They released me at the end of the year. I was twenty eight years old when your brother was born."

Jack inhaled sharply, more than a little surprised. She'd been wondering when the children would come into it and how Helen Rider could possibly have sat out an entire year alone in London after what John had described as a massive emotional breakdown. It made sense. The pregnancy would have kept her happy and distrated while her husband did whatever he pleased. It made the American's stomach churn to think of it.

"We named him James Ian Rider. He was eight pounds two ounces and he was born on a Wednesday. Your mother was delighted, if a little emotional. She was convinced that something would go wrong. I was there for his birth; they released me specifically so that I could be at the hospital. It was a difficult time for us because I was still in the middle of a mission and your mother's anxiety took a turn for the worse. He made her happy though, happier than I could. It was like the tension from the twins eased a little bit. I spent three months with them, scrounging around London for a job just as I'd been instructed. I was approached by Scorpia then, and maybe half a year later I was instructing for them in their training compound in Italy."

"Was she... depressed?" Alex asked slowly, his voice low and flat.

"Not really. She was underweight and absolutely frantic about Jamies' welfare but she was on medication for that. I'd visit her every once in a while and she'd be fine but she was just as good at keeping things from me as I was at hiding things from her. I never really saw how she coped because she was always cautious around me, always worried that I might hurt him, even inadvertently. I was ready to be a father but I was in Italy so much that I rarely got to see my son. I suppose my way of handling it was by pouring everything into my students. I took one of them in particular under my wing. You've heard of him. Yassen. Yassen Gregorovich."

Alex's jaw tensed slightly.

"You were born in nineteen eighty seven, Alex. I gave myself up to MI6 in Malta and they brought me home to meet you for the first time, to make my first visit in a couple of months back to my family. When I got home, things were bad. Not as bad as before prison but bad enough to warrant my taking longer than necessary to be with you. There had been some complications with you mother. She started seeing things, hallucinating. It was the medication she'd been taking. I re-committed her to hospital and hired a nanny to look after you and Jamie. About a month later I "died" for the first time on Albert Bridge. I won't go into the details; it was a complicated situation which I'm not particularly proud of. After that-"

"What are you ashamed of? Tell me. If you really want to be honest with me, tell me now." Alex deadpanned, interrupting for the second time.

"I had been sleeping with another woman casually and I manipulated her affections to save a hostage's life. Alright? I slept with another woman. I finished the mission and took some time off, under strict instructions to keep my head down. We moved to Aldershot and your mother finished her treatment and joined us again. She immersed herself in family life. For a while, she did nothing but give you and Jamie constant attention and care. She lived for the two of you. She was never the same though, as when she was younger. She was terrified that something should happen to one of you. She doted on you, Alex."

John swallowed slowly and seemed to consider his words as he proceeded.

"When Jamie turned four he started at the local primary school and your mother stayed home to look after you. I was on leave but I started doing a bit of instructing at the Paras' training camp. Jamie didn't really take to school. He took a long time to settle in and he wasn't much when it came to reading and writing. He was sociable though, got along really well with the other kids. Your mother didn't like him going out to other peoples' houses though. He was on the football team and you used to cry every single time he left for training. By the time you started at school, we were just about settled into suburban life."

"It was maybe two weeks after you started in school that I got a call from MI6 to tell me that I had to leave the country. They told me that it was an emergency, that my location had been compromised. They said not to worry, that they'd chartered a private plane to fly us to the South of France, give us a chance to get away. They told me... to tell your mother it was a surprise holiday I'd bought, just for the two of us. They said to leave you two in London, with a team of highly trained agents. Ian was part of the detail. What choice did I really have? Besides, Ian was going to be there, looking after you both. I agreed. I had to. Your mother didn't want to leave you both but I persuaded her. I worked on her about it. Jesus. If I'd known what was going to happen, Alex. I swear, I never would have... Christ."

John fisted his eyes with the heel of his hand roughly, rubbing at them despondently for a second.

"The plane never even got off the ground. They blew us up as we were taxiing. The plane turned into an inferno, one gigantic fireball. It ripped in half from the force of the explosion and I was catapulted onto the run way, still on fire. I thought I would die. I woke up in agony. The worst pain I'd ever felt, as if I was still burning alive. I was in an MI6 medical facility that was more like a prison with world class doctors. For nine months I couldn't even speak. I had extensive surgery to repair my body. The very latest medical technology to get me back to something resembling humanity. My entire right arm, most of my left torso and my left knee cap all had work done. It was an unpleasant experience, one I don't recommend to anybody but I came through it. It took the best part of two years for me to reach my past physical capacity."

"As for the two of you, once MI6 had brought down the plane they intended to place you both as wards of the state. Of course, Yassen Gregorovich and the organisation that he had backing him, had other plans. Stiletto had interest in training children from their first real stages of cognizant development to their adulthood to become a new breed of agent within their organization. MI6 had no idea that you and your brother had been targeted for Stiletto's sick, twisted experiment. Yassen Gregorovich and a team of at least three other men moved in, drew Ian's squad into gunfire and managed to make off with both of you. MI6 tried to kill Ian twice and he had to flee the country because he'd been poking through old transcripts in his office. He found a document that had been signed by executives, licensing the bomb that had been planted on the plane. I spent eight years in various medical facilities all over the world, all run covertly by MI6. You were maybe twelve by the time I... discharged myself."

John's lips twitched.

"I would have come straight for you, honestly, I would have. I was very angry though and, if I'm being truthful, more than a little insane. I drifted across Europe for a while, spent some time in South America. It was selfish of me but I felt so terrified. For a while, my head wasn't really wrapped around what had happened. Ian never gave up on looking for me, though. He tracked me down last year and brought me to Jerusalem, where he knew a safe house where we could rest up while he tried to get me some help. It was there that I had what I can only describe as the most religious experience I've ever heard of. Alex, it was like nothing I'd ever felt. Just a driving compulsion. For the first time in my life I felt like God was watching, telling me where to go. Steering me through the streets, all the while dissecting my life inside my brain. It was incredible."

John's voice sped up, hitching slightly as he got more animated. It was more than a little disturbing to hear him talking, almost ranting, like a mad man about some mysterious contact with the supernatural.

"I wandered the streets for three days. Gave Ian a bit of a heart attack, me disappearing like that. I didn't sleep, didn't eat. Just listened. When I came back, everything was crystal clear and I knew exactly what I had to do. For a month all I did was lie on my bed reading the Bible cover to cover. I found something in Jerusalem, Alex, something that's become very dear to me. 'The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.' All of a sudden I understood what had been wrong with me. I had to give my trust to the Lord and pray that everything would follow. And it did. 'The kingdom of Heaven is within you.... Seek ye first the kingdom of Heaven and all things will be added unto you.' I've come to make peace with you, Alex. And to ask you for your help."

"What is it you want?" Alex replied, voice shaking slightly. He'd never seen anything more terrifying than this. This absolute devotion and certainty in something unquestionable. He was furious, somewhere in the back of his mind. John Rider looked so still when he manically quoted the Bible, voice full of reverent awe. He didn't deserve the happiness that was evident on his face. This was the man who'd abandoned his children, who'd cheated on his mentally fragile wife. Alex wanted to hate him so very badly. He'd left him, abandoned him because he didn't fucking care and then he'd come back when he wanted help because he'd had some 'spiritual enlightenment.'

"Love comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith, Alex. I want you to help me find your mother. I know in my soul that she has to be alive. She's out there somewhere and they're keeping her from us because... because they're punishing me. I can't do this alone, Alex. You've got a good head on your shoulders and I can't risk them lashing out at you because of me. I won't. I want you to come with me because I have to save you. I have to keep you safe now. She has to be alive. She has to be-"

"She doesn't have to be anything but dead! If she loved Alex so much, she would have come for him! You were fine, all this time and then you come back and _you talk Bible at us_!? You come out with this 'love of the Lord' bullshit and you think that makes us even!? You can't risk them lashing out at Alex!? Where were you when they manipulated him, _exploited _him into doing their dirty work!? You just tossed him aside and now he has a family! James and I might not be his biological parents, but at least we're there for him. At least we care about him. Now that he has people who care about whether he gets his exams or does his homework, you come skipping back in with your pious quotes and tell us that you want him with you. And you think that's all right!? You're even more bat-shit insane than I thought!" Jack spat out venomously.

Alex was shocked. He'd never heard her so livid. He'd never heard her swear so furiously. He'd never seen this side of Jack before and he couldn't help but watch with a slightly morbid fascination as her remarks impacted on John one by one, sinking in with pain only the truth could inflict. He didn't even flinch.

"Hold on just a second. I'm his father. I had to disappear off the map for safety. I faked my own death twice, just to be certain that nobody was following me. I didn't get the opportunity to indulge in the fun side of parenting because I've been on the run for the past two years. So please, indulge me in my parental right to ask a son to help his father to find his mother. If he stays here, he will be a sitting duck. You simply don't have the skills or means to protect him from what may come when I go head to head with them to save my wife. I think you should just-"

"_Save your wife_!? You don't even know she's alive! I'm sorry but I can't- I won't let you put Alex in danger. Have you heard anything you've told us!? You neglected your wife, engaged in adultery and abandoned her to go undercover for your own misplaced sense of patriotism. You could be chasing a grave and you'd put your own child at risk for that!? If you cared for her at all, you'd leave now and never come back." Jack interrupted angrily.

John folded his arms across his chest warily, and looked as if he was about to reply before his mobile phone rang noisily in his pocket. He looked mildly irritated as he fished it out, punching the answer button.

"I'll call you back." He grunted, hanging up abruptly and reaching back into his pocket, this time withdrawing a small, clear plastic container. Jack opened her mouth to continue and he pointedly silenced her with two raised eyebrows and a sort of shrug, directing her gaze to the little plastic case. She closed her mouth again, surprising Alex. She wasn't the kind who took being shushed well.

John rifled through the case delicately for a second before he took out his hand, a tiny orange SIM card pinched between two fingertips. He put the case on the small coffee table Wolf had bought in Ikea and switched the orange SIM card for the one in his phone. Alex was intrigued. John was utilizing the same method as drug dealers to avoid having his calls tapped. Either he was extremely sensible or unfeasibly paranoid.

"Hello? Yes, I'm still there." John spoke to whoever he was calling gruffly.

"What? All right. All right. Back stairs. Give me a minute. Bye."

The conversation ended abruptly as John calmly returned both the plastic case and the phone to his left pocket. He lifted himself off the sofa and stepped into his shoes in one fluid movement, flexing his neck carefully.

"I have to go now. There's been a bit of a hitch in plans. I'll come back next week for you, if you want. I'll keep in touch."

He bustled out of the room swiftly, leaving just Alex and Jack in the living room again.

Numbness wasn't coming anytime soon for Alex. He'd seen it happen to fictional characters in books and movies a dozen different times; becoming numb to the deep throbbing pain in his chest that felt like he was being ripped in two. He guessed that perhaps he wasn't that lucky.

Jesus, was anyone?

* * *

**Fin. Sorry for the ridiculously over due update. Please review. Next chapter before Christmas.**


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